JUNGLE    TERROR 


»* 


You  make  a  fool  of  me  again    ...    7  will  teach  you  I " 


JUNGLE    TERROR 


BY 
HARVEY    WICKHAM 


FRONTISPIECE 
BY 

RALPH    FALLEN    COLEMAN 


DOUBLEDAY,   PAGE   &   COMPANY 

GARDEN   CITY       NEW   YORK  LONDON 

I  920 


COPYRIGHT,  1919,  1920,  BY 
DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED,  INCLUDING  THAT  OF 
TRANSLATION  INTO  FOREIGN  LANGUAGES, 
INCLUDING  THE  SCANDINAVIAN 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  The  Cablegram    ....  3 

II.  Obstacles  ......  14 

III.  A  Mysterious  Disappearance  28 

IV.  The  Refugees 38 

V.  The  Fate  of  the  Priest   .     .  50 

VI.  The  Portent 60 

VII.  Death's  Neighbourhood .     .  70 

VIII.  Purdy'sWalk      ....  84 

IX.  The  Cataclysm    ....  96 

X.  New  Puzzles 106 

XI.  Interrupted  Confidence  .     .  117 

XII.  A  Crisis 136 

XIII.  The  Thing 159 

XIV.  Good-bye  Earth  ....  173 
XV.  The  Abyss 188 

.    XVI.  Purdy  Dealt  With     ...  200 

XVII.  Krieg's  Legacy     .      .      .      .  213 

XVIII.  Weisner 226 

XIX.  A  Lost  Discovery      .     .     .  235 


2133985 


JUNGLE    TERROR 


JUNGLE  TERROR 

CHAPTER  I 

THE    CABLEGRAM 

AD   God  said  unto  the  serpent:  "I 
will  put  enmity  between  thee  and 
the  woman,  and  between  thy  seed 
and  her  seed.     It  shall  bruise  thy  head  and 
thou  shalt  bruise  its  heel." 

Also,  we  know  from  less  holy  writ  that 
a  snake,  though  scotched,  continues  to  be 
venomous  and  wags  its  tail  until  the  very 
sundown  of  its  day. 

Alone,  at  a  table  in  the  best  cafe  in  a 
shabby  little  South  American  capital  which 
must  here  be  nameless,  sat  a  sun-browned 
Yankee  lost  in  the  contemplation  of  the 

3 


4  JUNGLE  TERROR 

smoke  of  his  cigarette.  He  was  thin,  lank, 
with  introspective,  pale,  blue  eyes — one  of 
those  men  whose  strength  both  of  mind  and 
of  body  is  hidden  from  the  careless  observer; 
men  who  look  indolent,  impractical,  and 
yet  are  to  be  found,  somehow,  always 
where  the  world's  work  is  toughest  and  its 
dangers  most  subtle  and  deadly. 

A  suit  of  well-worn  khaki  suggested  at 
first  some  sort  of  military  service,  but  the 
absence  of  braid,  to  say  nothing  of  the  com 
fortable  slouch  of  his  shoulders,  showed 
him  to  be  civilian.  He  had,  with  it  all, 
an  air  of  being  at  one  and  the  same  time 
lost  and  perfectly  and  unutterably  at 
home. 

Ross  Purdy  would,  in  fact,  have  felt  at 
home  anywhere.  And  yet  for  the  moment 
he  did  wonder  why  he  happened  to  be  in 
that  particular  spot.  There  was  absolutely 
nothing  to  do.  The  war  was  over;  German 
intrigue  in  the  far  quarters  of  the  earth  a 
thing  of  an  unbelievable  past.  Why,  then, 


THE  CABLEGRAM  5 

did  not  the  Government  let  him  return  to 
Washington;  or,  say,  to  Washington  Square  ? 
Truly,  orders  were  strange  things,  past 
finding  out.  There  must  be  a  reason  be 
hind  them.  But  it  was  nonsense  not  to 
trust  a  man. 

"A  cable  for  you,  senor,"  said  a  waiter, 
laying  a  yellow  envelope  on  the  table. 

Purdy  nodded,  but  did  not  take  his  hands 
from  his  pockets.  So  here  was  something 
definite  at  last.  But,  since  it  had  been  so 
long  in  reaching  him,  there  was  no  hurry 
about  it.  He,  too,  could  take  his  time. 
Pride  has  its  demands,  after  all. 

The  theatre-like  room  was  drowsy  under 
the  spell  of  the  late  afternoon.  Overhead 
a  number  of  creaking  rotary  fans,  with  long 
wooden  arms  as  crazy  as  Don  Quixote's 
windmills,  drove  down  the  hot  breath  of  the 
Tropic  of  Capricorn,  but  fell  just  short  of 
creating  a  breeze.  In  an  hour  the  city 
would  begin  to  wake  from  its  siesta,  and  fill 
the  cafe  with  gaiety  carefully  imitated  from 


6  JUNGLE  TERROR 

gaiety  of  New  York,  London,  and  more 
especially  Paris.  But  as  yet,  the  whole 
world  seemed  half  asleep. 

Now  and  then  some  fellow  idler,  willing 
to  scrape  up  an  acquaintance,  would  pass 
near  Purdy's  table.  One,  a  stout,  boyish 
individual,  with  an  air  of  counterfeit  reck 
lessness  that  strove  in  vain  with  a  home 
sickness  that  was  all  too  real,  passed  several 
times  but  did  not  succeed  in  catching  his 
eye.  From  the  doorway  a  party  of  tourists 
had  Purdy  pointed  out  to  them  as  a  one 
time  revolutionist,  and  swallowed  the  story 
without  a  gulp. 

And  all  the  while  that  unopened  cable 
gram  lay  there  eyeing  its  recipient  re 
proachfully  from  the  table. 

He  endured  it  as  long  as  he  could.  But 
a  cablegram  is  a  cablegram.  The  moment 
he  permitted  himself  to  look  at  it,  his  fingers 
reached  instinctively  forward  and  tore  it 
open.  Expanded  from  code  to  English, 
it  read: 


THE  CABLEGRAM  7 

Without  attracting  attention  make  thorough  in 
vestigation  of  the  native  panic  in  the  montanas  near 
Los  Altos.  Stories  here  contradictory.  Draw  at 
sight  for  whatever  amounts  necessary. 

The  reader  of  this  carte  blanche  order 
stared  as  if  he  could  not  believe  his 
eyes.  Why  should  the  august  Service  to 
which  he  belonged  be  bothering  itself  about 
such  things  as  natives  in  a  panic  or 
out? 

Again  the  boyish  individual  with  the 
reckless  pose  drifted  into  view.  He  was  the 
local  representative  of  an  international 
news  agency,  and  having  found  nobody 
willing  to  quench  his  thirst  or  to  give  him  a 
story,  was  on  his  way  out.  This  time 
Purdy  invited  him  to  a  chair. 

"Tommy/'  he  began,  "what's  this  fuss 
I  hear  they're  having  in  the  uplands  ?  An 
other  rebellion,  I  suppose.  Know  anything 
about  it?" 

Tommy  ran  his  fingers  through  a  mop  of 
sweat-dampened  hair,  settled  himself  de- 


8  JUNGLE  TERROR 

liberately,  leaned  forward  on  his  elbows, 
and  answered: 

"So,  that's  what  you're  down  here  for! 
But  what's  the  use  of  calling  it  a  rebellion 
—to  me?  And  if  I  were  you  I  wouldn't 
talk  so  loud." 

He  looked  hurt.  Purdy  was  forced  to 
smile. 

"If  it  isn't  a  rebellion,  what  is  it?" 

"Blessed  if  I  know — if  you  don't,"  was 
the  answer.  "And  you're  right.  If  I  were 
you  I'd  trust  nobody — nobody  at  all.  The 
gang  down  here  has  got  a  ringer  in  the  pie. 
And  you  know  what  they  can  do  to  you." 

"Come,  Tommy!  I'm  really  in  the  dark. 
I've  been  on  war  duty.  What  on  earth  can 
be  interesting  the  gang  down  here,  as  you 
call  them,  and  the  gang  up  along  the  little 
old  Potomac,  too?  The  days  when  any 
street  fight  might  be  part  of  an  international 
plot  are  over,  Son.  We've  laid  the  Big 
Plotter  by  the  heels.  What  new  deviltry 
are  we  up  against  now?" 


THE  CABLEGRAM  9 

"That  I  don't  know.  Beyond  my  job. 
But  it  doesn't  take  much  to  make  South 
America  unhealthy — and  there  is  some 
thing  stirring.  Right  the  opposite  of  a  re 
bellion,  though.  The  natives  are  afraid." 

Tommy,  though  somewhat  mollified,  was 
still  obviously  piqued  at  what  he  took  to 
be  a  lack  of  frankness  in  his  vis-a-vis, 
and  Purdy  was  not  sorry  when,  there  be 
ing  no  prospects  of  further  liquids  mak 
ing  their  appearance,  he  finally  took  his 
leave. 

There  remained  the  newspapers.  Purdy 
sent  out  for  a  comprehensive  assortment, 
and  began  digging  for  information.  Little 
was  to  be  had,  though  one  of  the  miserable 
local  journals  written  in  Spanish  told  how  a 
foreigner,  with  the  suggestive  name  of 
Krieg  and  living  well  off  toward  the  sus 
pected  region,  had  committed  suicide  after 
the  walls  of  his  hacienda  had  just  missed 
killing  him  by  falling  flat,  like  the  walls  of 
Jericho.  The  cause  of  this  mysterious  be- 


io  JUNGLE  TERROR 

haviour  on  the  part  of  the  walls  was  not 
mentioned,  nor  did  there  appear  to  be  any 
evidence  of  suicide  beyond  the  fact  of  the 
fellow's  disappearance.  Purdy  wondered 
why  such  an  incomplete  item  should  have 
been  published  at  all. 

It  was  on  a  par  with  the  yarn  printed 
immediately  beneath  it,  about  a  party  of 
hunters  along  the  Maranon  River  having 
caught  sight  of  a  new  species  of  black  jaguar 
while  wandering  beyond  the  usual  trails  in 
a  dense  selva,  or  primeval  jungle — a  species 
of  such  "unusual  size  and  ferocity"  that 
they  had  been  "unable  to  kill  it  with  the 
ammunition  at  hand."  The  Maranon  is  a 
tributary  of  the  Amazon,  far  north  of  Los 
Altos,  and  the  yarn  was  well  within  the 
scope  of  the  ordinary  nature-faker's  imagi 
nation.  Yet  to  this  incident,  too,  one  was 
moved  to  apply  the  epithet  "odd." 

The  American  papers  offered  nothing 
until  he  came  upon  an  obscure  dispatch, 
buried  at  the  bottom  of  a  column  among 


THE  CABLEGRAM  11 

the  advertisements  and  likely  enough  from 
Tommy's  own  hand.  It  was  to  the  effect 
that,  for  some  cause  yet  to  be  ascertained 
but  presumably  connected  with  an  outbreak 
of  sheep-plague,  the  remote  hill  districts  in 
the  neighbourhood  of — yes,  it  was  Los  Altos, 
again! — were  rapidly  being  depopulated  by 
an  exodus  which  had  no  parallel  in  South 
American  history.  Investors  in  mining 
stocks,  the  persons  most  affected,  were 
warned  to  pay  no  attention  to  tales  coming 
from  refugees,  for  the  reason  that  most  of 
the  latter  appeared  to  have  gone  insane  from 
the  hardships  of  their  journey. 

A  very  curious  item,  this.  Hardships  of 
their  journey,  indeed !  Tommy's  confidence 
would  have  to  be  won  and  an  explanation 
dragged  out  of  him,  that  was  certain.  But 
why  should  Uncle  Sam,  with  the  work  of 
helping  to  remake  a  world-map  on  his  hands, 
be  worrying  about  it  ? 

Purdy  got  to  his  feet,  his  tall,  slender 
figure  with  its  slight  stoop  giving  more  than 


12  JUNGLE  TERROR 

ever  the  impression  of  delicacy  rather  than 
strength.  But  his  nerves  were  humming 
now  like  taut  steel  cords.  All  sense  of  lassi 
tude,  all  his  former  feeling  of  ill  usage,  of 
being  left  neglected  and  forgotten  in  that 
far  quarter  of  the  earth,  had  vanished 
utterly.  Hardships  of  the  journey,  eh? 
Something  which  had  upset  their  reason? 
A  likely  story,  that ! 

Outside  the  cafe  the  streets  were  practi 
cally  deserted — vistas  of  intolerable  bright 
ness,  cut  here  and  there  by  sharp,  swordlike 
shadows  fighting  valiantly  on  behalf  of  the 
cool  and  languorous  evening  which  was  to 
come.  From  the  distance  rolled  an  open 
carriage  and  pair,  setting  up  a  clatter  of 
hoofs  and  a  stir  of  dust.  He  looked,  ex 
pecting  to  see  some  high-bred,  haughty 
Spanish  dame,  scornful  of  modernity  and 
automobiles,  and  protected  by  the  inevit 
able  maid  and  parasol — the  forerunner  of 
hundreds  yet  waiting  for  the  five  o'clock  sea 
breeze.  Instead,  the  carriage  proved  to  be 


THE  CABLEGRAM  13 

empty.  It  halted.  From  the  box  jumped 
a  uniformed  flunkey,  who  bowed  respect 
fully  and  said,  "The  Presidente  sends  his 
compliments,  senor,  and  would  like  to  see 
you  at  the  palace. " 


CHAPTER  II 

OBSTACLES 

PURDY  refused  a  seat  in  the  carriage. 
This  summons,  coming  so  closely  on 
the  heels  of  the  cablegram,  struck 
him  as  curious.     Of  course  there  could  be  no 
connection  between  the  two,  but  it  might  be 
a  good  thing  to  walk  and  collect  his  ideas 
before  plunging  into  an  interview,  let  its 
end  and  object  be  what  it  might.     Thus  it 
was   that   he   found   himself  crossing   the 
palace  grounds  leisurely  and  on  foot. 

The  Presidente's  two  children,  in  the 
charge  of  a  darkly  beautiful  young  woman  in 
white  cap  and  apron,  were  playing  on  the 
lawn  beneath  the  shadow  of  one  of  the  or 
nate  porticos.  For  all  he  knew,  this  was 
their  daily  habit.  Excepting  one  formal 
call,  business  had  never  brought  him  that 

14 


OBSTACLES  15 

way  before.  But  his  mind  was  in  a  mood  to 
take  note  of  trifles,  and  it  seemed  rather  odd 
that  the  domestic  life  of  such  an  ostentatious 
establishment  as  Fernando  Lara's  should  be 
allowed  to  escape  from  the  privacy  of  the 
patio.  If  the  scene  had  been  planned  pur 
posely  to  catch  his  eye  it  could  not  have 
been  staged  better. 

The  maid  was  addressing  her  charges  in 
French  as  he  came  past.  This  was  natural 
enough.  It  was  like  the  Presidente  to  put 
on  airs  by  employing  a  foreign  servant. 
Yet  it  was  not  the  Champs  filysees  or  the 
Luxembourg  Gardens  which  Purdy  suddenly 
found  himself  thinking  about.  No,  it  was 
of  something  more  sinister:  the  picture  of 
one  of  those  lost  and  crooked  streets  on  the 
lower  East  Side  of  New  York  where  all 
nationalities  congregate  and  weird  things 
come  to  pass.  A  whim  of  association,  no 
doubt — a  vague  memory  from  a  forgotten 
case  of  his  newspaper  days. 

To  whim,  also,  could  be  attributed  the 


16  JUNGLE  TERROR 

idea  that  those  steady,  heavy-lidded  eyes 
regarded  him  with  a  look  of  serious  purpose. 
A  nurse  maid  might  have  been  expected 
either  to  smile  or  to  ignore  him  altogether. 
This  look  was  half  threat,  half  warning. 
But  what  nonsense  he  was  thinking !  Grant 
that  she  did  come  from  Chatham  Square 
rather  than  from  Paris.  Grant  that  her 
complexion,  in  such  vivid  contrast  with 
her  hair  and  eyes,  was  far  too  fair  to  be 
French.  She  was  not  the  first  who  had 
played  such  a  deception  upon  a  gullible 
employer.  Purdy  mounted  the  imitation 
marble  steps  before  the  grandiose  entrance 
with  a  sense  of  disgust.  Everything  in 
South  America  was  imitation — everything. 
Lara  received  him  with  elaborate  cor 
diality.  Purdy  wondered  whether  the  false 
note  here  was  struck  by  the  drifts  of  gray 
above  the  temples,  accentuating  the  con 
descending  benevolence  of  a  high-born  ca- 
ballero,  or  by  the  prominent  cheek  bones 
and  more  than  Castillian  swarthiness  of 


OBSTACLES  17 

skin  which  gave  the  Presidente  on  close  in 
spection  the  aspect  of  a  Sioux  Indian, 
tamed  but  not  altogether  trustworthy. 

The  conversation  began  inanely  with  talk 
about  the  climate  and  the  price  of  sugar, 
and  led  up  gradually  to  the  subject  of 
bright  young  men  left  knocking  about  the 
world  with  nothing  in  the  shape  of  a  real 
opportunity  to  show  their  remarkable  qual 
ities.  Purdy  could  hardly  believe  his  ears 
when  he  heard  himself  actually  asked  to 
resign  his  present  position  and  accept  a 
post  in  Lara's  official  household.  They 
needed  him,  it  appeared,  though  the  only 
duty  mentioned  was  that  of  drawing  regu 
larly  a  salary  whose  figures  were  astounding. 
But  what  impressed  the  American  most  was 
the  fact  that  Lara  knew  the  contents  of  the 
cablegram.  The  code  had  been  stolen. 
And  the  proposed  salary  was  a  bribe  to  keep 
him  idling  inoffensively  about  the  city. 
Such  absurd  liberality  could  not  otherwise 
be  accounted  for. 


i8  JUNGLE  TERROR 

Purdy  was  used  to  surprises.  Not  a 
muscle  of  his  face  moved.  But  his  mind 
was  active.  Serious  matters  were  assuredly 
afoot.  And  since  his  commission  to  visit  the 
hills  was  no  longer  a  secret,  why  not  men 
tion  it  openly  and  see  what  would  hap 
pen? 

Lara  received  the  information  without  a 
blink. 

"Ordered  to  investigate  the  trouble  at 
Los  Altos,  are  you  ?  I  was  afraid  of  some 
thing  of  the  kind.  In  fact,  that  was  one  of 
the  reasons  why  I  wanted  to  keep  you  with 
us.  A  man  of  your  calibre — it  is  too  bad 
to  see  you  thrown  away  on  such  a  trifling 
affair." 

"Not  thrown  away.  I'll  be  back,  prob 
ably  in  a  couple  of  weeks." 

Purdy's  Spanish  was  almost  as  soft  and 
resonant  as  the  other's.  But  the  tone  which 
answered  him  grew  suddenly  earnest. 

"Don't  be  too  certain,  sefior.  These 
native  troubles  are,  as  you  say  in  your 


OBSTACLES  19 

country,  nasty  things  to  mix  up  in.  And — 
pray  do  not  misunderstand  me — exceedingly 
dangerous." 

"Just  what  is  it — that  is  going  on  up  in 
the  mountains?"  asked  Purdy. 

"Ah!  that  is  more  than  I  can  say.  Some 
tribe  has  found  a  war-chief,  perhaps,  and 
relapsed  into  primitive  barbarism.  Who 
can  tell  ?  All  we  are  certain  of  is  that  not 
only  the  Blacks  and  the  Indians,  but  the 
Mestizos  and  even  the  Whites,  are  rushing 
for  the  pampas.  If  I  were  you  that  is  all 
I  would  want  to  know." 

It  would  have  been  impossible  to  com 
bine  menace  and  a  friendly  admonition  into 
a  more  polite  phrase.  Purdy  thanked  the 
Presidente,  and,  without  committing  him 
self  to  any  definite  line  of  action,  rose  to 
withdraw.  Lara  accompanied  him  to  the 
door,  handed  him  over  to  a  pompous  major 
domo  resplendent  in  medals  and  gold  braid, 
and  contented  himself  with  a  parting  in 
junction. 


20  JUNGLE  TERROR 

"  Better  consider  my  offer,  senor — better 
consider  it  carefully/' 

Purdy  found  himself  at  the  beginning  of  a 
long  corridor.  It  was  not  the  way  by  which 
he  had  come  in,  and  was  so  dimly  lighted  as 
to  be  almost  dark.  Instinctively  he  hesi 
tated,  and  during  that  instant  a  woman 
appeared.  Probably  she  had  been  there 
before  him,  only  becoming  visible  as  his 
eyes  accustomed  themselves  to  the  shadows, 
but  he  was  nearly  as  much  astonished  as 
if  she  had  materialized  out  of  the  air. 
Though  no  children  accompanied  her  now, 
it  was  impossible  to  mistake  her.  She  was 
Lara's  French  maid.  And  she  had  stationed 
herself  directly  in  his  path. 

Such  impertinence  was  unbelievable.  And 
even  more  remarkable  was  the  behaviour  of 
the  major  domo.  Instead  of  reprimanding 
the  under-servant,  or  at  least  standing 
politely  at  attention  until  the  guest  was 
ready  to  move,  he  stalked  away  majestically 


OBSTACLES  21 

by  himself  and  disappeared  around  a  corner. 
Purdy  and  the  woman  were  left  alone. 

He  eyed  her  angrily.  But — she  was  a 
remarkably  beautiful  woman.  One  could 
not  read  the  expression  of  her  eyes  in  that 
obscurity,  yet  it  seemed  friendly — though 
veiled,  perhaps,  behind  some  indeterminable 
purpose.  Purdy  was  about  to  demand  an 
explanation  when  he  decided,  on  second 
thought,  that  it  would  be  better  to  let  her 
begin  the  conversation. 

"Ziss  way,  please,  m'sieu,"  she  lisped. 
"Ze  man  he  make  one  little  mistake.  Ze 
way  out,  it  is  par  id — here.'* 

She  opened  a  door  and  stood  aside,  smil 
ing,  to  let  him  pass. 

Purdy  paused.  But  he  had  already  more 
than  half  suspected  that  the  man  had  made 
a  mistake,  under  the  impression,  perhaps, 
that  the  visitor  was  to  be  conducted  to  the 
domestic  quarters.  And  the  door  which  the 
girl  held  open  led  directly  toward  the  en 
trance-way,  as  he  remembered  it.  What 


22  JUNGLE  TERROR 

held  him  was  the  almost  unmistakable 
evidence  of  collusion  between  her  and  the 
major  domo.  Also  her  broken  English 
had  failed  to  deceive.  She  was  no  more 
French  than  he  was. 

"  Perhaps  m'sieu  is  afraid,"  said  a  mock 
ing  voice. 

Purdy  coloured.  He  knew  quite  well  now 
that  he  ought  to  be  upon  his  guard.  Her 
pretence  of  wanting  merely  to  let  him  out 
was  too  thin.  There  was  something  behind 
it.  But  her  laugh  nettled  him.  He  lost 
all  sense  of  prudence.  Besides,  there  was 
that  look  in  her  face,  still  suggesting  a 
desire  to  help  him.  He  stepped  toward 
her. 

Instead  of  waiting  for  him  to  pass,  she 
retreated,  keeping  before  him  yet  never 
turning  away  her  eyes. 

"There  is  something  you  wanted  to  tell 
me,  is  there  not?"  he  began,  crossing  the 
threshold.  "  Come !  Out  with  it— and  talk 
United  States." 


OBSTACLES  23 

"Oui,  m'sieu — somezing.  Ze  Presi- 
dente- 

She  paused,  like  one  interrupted  at  the 
point  of  making  a  confidence.  Purdy, 
catching  the  sound  of  a  cautious  step  behind 
him,  wheeled  just  in  time  to  see  the  door 
swing  to.  He  flung  himself  upon  it,  but 
it  was  locked.  His  retreat  was  cut  off. 

Furiously  he  turned  to  the  girl,  but  she 
avoided  his  clutches,  slipped  through  an 
other  door  beyond,  and  slammed  it  in  his 
face.  He  seemed  to  catch  the  echo  of  the 
words,  "Pardon!  m'sieu  will  do  quite  well 
where  he  is  for  a  while,"  uttered  in  a  tone 
between  a  cry  and  a  laugh. 

He  was  alone  in  a  spacious,  unfurnished 
chamber,  which  seemed  once  to  have  been 
used  as  a  guard-room,  for  there  were  empty 
gun-racks  along  the  walls.  Now  it  was 
given  over  to  dust,  cobwebs,  and  garden 
tools.  A  few  spades,  a  few  pieces  of  rubber 
hose,  an  aggressively  new  American  lawn 
mower  and  a  rustic  bench — these  were  its 


24  JUNGLE  TERROR 

sole  furnishings.  The  floor  and  walls  were 
of  concrete;  the  doors  solid  and  without 
openings.  The  windows  had  been  bricked 
up  all  save  one,  which  showed  a  small  open 
ing  near  the  top  for  the  entrance  of  light 
and  air.  Outside  of  a  regular  penitentiary, 
a  more  impregnable  prison  cell  could  hardly 
have  been  found. 

Purdy's  first  impulse  was  to  raise  an 
outcry,  but  he  checked  it  instantly.  If  the 
Presidente  had  dared  to  order  this  outrage 
upon  an  American  citizen,  an  outcry  would 
be  useless.  And  who  but  the  Presidente 
could  have  ordered  it  ?  And  what  power  or 
semblance  of  a  power  had  given  him  the 
courage  ?  These  braggadocio  South  American 
officials  had  sometimes  very  bizarre  notions 
of  their  own  importance  and  of  the  relative 
importance  of  the  various  nations  of  the 
earth.  But  there  always  had  to  be  some 
thing  or  somebody  to  egg  them  on.  What 
private  ambition,  what  political  plot  could 
he,  Purdy,  be  thwarting,  now  that  Germany 


OBSTACLES  25 

was  gone  ?  It  was  impossible  even  to  guess. 
The  Secret  Service  is  a  secret  service.  Its 
servants  work  for  the  most  part  in  the  dark, 
unaware  even  of  their  own  risks. 

And  the  girl  ?  At  thought  of  her  Purdy's 
self-control  departed  suddenly,  and  he  began 
to  pace  the  room  like  a  caged  animal.  To 
think  that  he  had  been  duped  by  such  an 
ancient  trick  as  this!  Baited  by  a  smile 
and  a  pair  of  inscrutable  eyes !  How  should 
he  ever  confess  to  his  superiors  that  he  had 
lost  his  liberty  while  trying  to  follow  a  nur 
sery  maid?  It  would  look  like  a  vulgar 
flirtation,  and  ruin  his  reputation  for  having 
a  head  on  his  shoulders. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  not  a  flirtation. 
Whatever  else,  it  was  not  that.  Nothing 
had  been  farther  from  his  mind  than  making 
love  to  the  girl.  She  had  piqued  his  cur 
iosity,  and  with  that  covert  air  of  Amer 
icanism  about  her  and  her  apparent  desire 
to  tell  him  something  for  his  own  good,  she 
had — pshaw!  She  had  found  his  blind 


26  JUNGLE  TERROR 

side,  that  was  all.  Accounting  for  it  would 
do  no  good.  He  was  trapped. 

But  was  he  ?  That  open  space  at  the  top 
of  the  window  invited  investigation.  It  was 
too  high  to  reach  directly  from  the  floor, 
but  by  standing  the  rustic  bench  on  end  and 
using  it  as  a  ladder  he  managed  to  get  a 
glimpse  outside.  What  he  saw  was  a  group 
of  trees  and  a  great  expanse  of  lavishly 
watered  lawn — an  unfamiliar  bit  of  the 
palace  grounds.  But  there  was  no  crawling 
through  the  hole,  it  being  protected  by  an 
ornamental  grating.  One  could  only  wait 
and  see  what  happened.  Somebody  must 
come  by  and  by.  It  was  not  likely  that 
they  would  leave  him  there  to  starve.  If 
only  he  had  a  little  water.  He  was  thirsty 
already. 

Purdy  descended,  lowered  the  bench  to  a 
horizontal  position,  and  flung  himself  upon 
it,  thankful  even  for  such  a  couch.  He  did 
not  believe  that  his  predicament  was  seri 
ous,  yet  it  began  to  dawn  upon  him  that  he 


OBSTACLES  27 

was  contending  against  forces  at  once  so  in 
tangible  and  unknown  that  it  might  at  any 
moment  become  very  serious  indeed.  A 
parched  throat  is  a  terrible  reminder  of  the 
slenderness  of  the  thread  of  human  life. 


CHAPTER  III 

A   MYSTERIOUS    DISAPPEARANCE 

HOURS  passed.    It  grew  dark.    Purdy 
recovered  his  sang  froid  like  an  old 
campaigner    whose    nerves    grow 
steadier  as  the  battle  progresses.     Only  it 
was  a  battle  where  for  a  time  the  initiative  ap 
peared  to  lie  with  the  enemy.     So,  extended 
upon  the  bench,  his  hands  locked  behind  his 
head  for  a  pillow,  he  waited. 

He  must  have  slept  for  several  hours 
before  he  was  aroused  by  the  sound  of  a  rat 
gnawing  cautiously  overhead.  A  rat — yes, 
if  a  rat  had  a  file  for  a  tooth  and  could  gnaw 
iron.  Nothing  could  now  be  seen  in  that 
pitch-black  chamber,  not  even  the  square 
of  the  window.  But  the  metallic  quality 
of  the  sound  was  unmistakable. 

Purdy's  mind   at  once   reverted  to  the 

28 


A  MYSTERIOUS  DISAPPEARANCE     29 

ornamental  grating  which  had  thwarted  his 
earlier  attempt  to  escape.  It  was  odd  that 
no  light  came  through  it.  Even  starlight 
ought  to  be  visible.  Was  there  a  shutter? 
He  lay  watching,  and  grew  conscious  finally 
of  a  dull  blur  that  came  and  went.  The 
window  was  not  covered  by  a  shutter  but 
by  something  which  moved. 

Once  more  the  bench  did  duty  as  a  ladder. 
Purdy  climbed  as  quietly  as  possible,  but 
the  gnawing  ceased. 

"Is  that  you?"  whispered  someone  with 
out. 

"Tommy!" 

"Yes;  keep  quiet  just  a  minute  now.  I'll 
be  through  here  in  a  jiffy." 

Half  an  hour  later  the  two  were  safely 
beyond  the  grounds. 

"Now,  Tommy,  tell  me — how  did  you 
come  to  look  for  me  in  there?" 

"Got  a  note.  It  said  where  I'd  find  you. 
Also  where  I'd  find  a  ladder  and  a  file. 
Devil  of  a  country,  this." 


3o  JUNGLE  TERROR 

"Who  wrote  the  note?" 

"Found  it  under  my  door.  No  name 
given.  And  I  didn't  ask  questions  of  any 
body — always  healthier  not  to." 

"But  you  undertook  the  job  of  getting 
me  out.  That  wasn't  very  healthy  on  the 
face  of  it,  it  seems  to  me." 

"Didn't  think  I'd  leave  another  white 
man  in  the  lurch,  did  you?" 

Purdy  paused — they  were  under  a  street 
lamp — and  read  in  the  other's  eyes  the  lov 
ing  admiration  of  a  dog  for  its  master.  It 
surprised  him  as  much  as  anything  which 
had  happened  during  all  those  past  few 
eventful  hours.  He  was  not  in  the  habit  of 
regarding  himself  as  anything  remarkable. 
And  yet  to  this  forlorn  wreck  of  a  journalist, 
stranded  in  a  semi-tropical  back-water  and 
dying  of  fatty  degeneration  of  soul  and 
body,  he  was  an  object  of  envy,  almost  of 
worship.  Heretofore,  circumstances  had 
hidden  it,  but  now  it  was  plain.  The  idea 
made  him  want  to  laugh. 


A  MYSTERIOUS  DISAPPEARANCE   31 

"Tommy/*  he  said,  abruptly,  "why  don't 
you  pull  yourself  together  and  get  out  of 
this?" 

"Why  doesn't  the  President  of  the  United 
States  make  me  Secretary  of  the  Navy?" 

"Anyway,  it  appears  that  I  have  un 
known  friends  as  well  as  enemies." 

"  Who  ?  The  party  who  wrote  that  note  ? 
Wait  and  see.  Maybe  you  were  a  lot 
better  off  where  I  found  you  than  you  will 
be  where  you're  going.  Los  Altos,  isn't 
it?" 

"Yes,  Tommy.  But  if  what  you  say  is 
true  I'd  like  first  to  discover  your  'party'.'* 

"No  chance.  It  was  printed  in  capital 
letters  with  a  lead  pencil,  in  just  such  Eng 
lish  as  a  Spaniard — or  a  very  clever  person 
pretending  to  be  a  Spaniard — would  write." 

"Well,  then,  drop  the  note — though  I  am 
not  going  to  drop  the  locking  up  until  I've 
had  a  little  Yankee  set-to  with  Lara.  He 
has  quite  a  bit  to  explain.  In  the  mean 
time — come!  Get  ready  to  go  with  me 


32  JUNGLE  TERROR 

into  the  mountains.  I  must  have  somebody 
I  can  trust." 

Tommy  stopped  short  in  his  tracks. 

"You  mean  that?"  he  asked,  earnestly. 
"Don't  you  know — what's  the  matter  with 
me?" 

"Certainly.  Booze.  But  you  won't  be 
able  to  get  it  in  the  mountains." 

"See  you  in  the  morning,  then — at  the 
cafe." 

The  words  strove  to  be  casual,  but  they 
came  unsteadily;  and  with  a  quick  clasp 
of  the  hand  Tommy  was  gone. 

Purdy's  intention  to  rake  the  Presidente 
over  the  coals  for  an  affront  (to  call  it  noth 
ing  worse)  offered  to  the  person  of  an 
American  citizen  was  forestalled  by  an 
elaborately  rhetorical  epistle  from  Lara 
himself.  He  had  heard  of  the  "  unfortunate 
incident,"  due,  he  said,  to  the  "stupidity  of 
menials,"  who  had  mistaken  the  honourable 
caballero  for  another  person,  "a  political 


A  MYSTERIOUS  DISAPPEARANCE    33 

offender  of  no  consequence/'  over  whom, 
and  over  whom  alone,  "the  local  govern 
ment  presumed  to  have  jurisdiction." 

From  that  time  on  the  preparations  for 
the  journey  progressed  without  further  in 
terruption.  Lara  sent  to  offer  a  complete 
outfit,  "in  case  the  caballero "  —  it  was  al 
ways  caballero  now — "could  not  be  dis 
suaded."  And  though  this  doubtful  assis 
tance  was  respectfully  declined,  it  continued 
to  be  easy  to  find  everything  which  a  trav 
eller  could  desire — especially  guides. 

"Too  easy,"  as  Tommy  remarked.  "It's 
like  falling  into  a  hole." 

Purdy  fully  agreed  with  this  view  of 
things.  He  had  not  forgotten  Lara's  anxi 
ety  to  add  his  name  to  his  pay-roll.  The 
bribe,  the  brusque  imprisonment  which  fol 
lowed  its  refusal,  the  note  to  Tommy,  the 
apology,  they  were  all  parts  of  the  same 
mystery.  The  very  absurdity  of  the  inci 
dents,  their  comic-opera  quality,  only  served 
the  more  to  stir  his  sense  of  caution.  No 


34  JUNGLE  TERROR 

guide  who  came  recommended  by  any 
person,  no  matter  who,  was  employed. 
Even  then  it  was  only  three  days  before 
everything  was  ready.  Having  failed  to 
hold  him,  they  were  speeding  his  departure. 
Who?  Why?  Unanswerable  enigmas. 

And  now  began  the  first  assault  on  the 
mountains,  beginning  with  a  long  but  easy 
stage  on  board  that  wonder  among  climbers, 
the  Los  Altos  Railroad — a  unique  piece 
of  engineering  which  never  reaches  the  des 
tination  for  which  it  is  named,  but  makes 
its  terminal  half  way,  as  if  exhausted,  at  a 
group  of  ancient  and  once  very  famous  silver 
mines.  From  there  on  the  travellers  found, 
to  their  surprise,  a  stretch  of  newly  con 
structed  track  leading  quite  to  one  side  of  the 
original  survey  and  ending — simply  nowhere. 

But  that  was  later.  For  the  time  being 
they  had  only  to  watch  the  straight,  level 
right-of-way  eat  swiftly  through  the  narrow 
strip  of  desert,  become  a  gently  winding, 


A  MYSTERIOUS  DISAPPEARANCE    35 

easy  gradient  amidst  rolling  lowlands,  and 
turn  finally  into  a  tortuous,  worm-like  path 
boring  patiently  into  the  higher  altitudes. 
With  their  guides  and  their  beasts  of  burden 
(two  burros  and  a  llama)  safe  in  the  baggage 
car,  they  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  sit  and 
smoke.  Of  talking  they  did  little ;  it  was  too 
plainly  the  lull  before  action. 

Thus  they  had  travelled  a  day  and  a 
night,  the  scenery  growing  ever  more  and 
more  magnificent,  when  a  roughly  dressed, 
moustachioed  stranger,  whose  previous  taci 
turnity  had  been  emphasized  by  a  slouched 
sombrero  and  a  persistently  averted  face, 
turned  suddenly  around  in  the  seat  in  front  of 
them  and  remarked  in  gruff,  illiterate  Spanish : 

"See  that  pile  of  bricks  and  stones  over 
there,  senors?  That's  Krieg's  Casa,  or 
what  is  left  of  it.  Mighty  interesting  ruin 
— if  you  care  about  such  things." 

Krieg!  The  name  recalled  that  vague 
and  scarcely  credible  item — about  a  sup 
posed  suicide,  as  nearly  as  Purdy  could  re- 


36  JUNGLE  TERROR 

member.  He  wondered  why  he  could  recall 
it  at  all.  Something  unlikely  in  the  whole 
narrative,  probably,  had  made  it  stick  in  his 
memory.  Tommy  seemed  to  know  about 
it,  too,  for  he  gazed  at  the  heap  of  debris  as 
if  it  were  indeed  the  interesting  ruin  which 
the  stranger  pretended.  A  minute  later  the 
train  came  to  a  standstill. 

"A  hot  box,"  announced  Tommy,  after 
rushing  out  to  investigate  with  altogether 
more  eagerness  than  the  case  seemed  to  call 
for.  "What  do  you  say  to  taking  a  look 
around?  It's  only  a  little  way,  and  we've 
got  lots  of  time." 

Purdy  shook  his  head.  He  had  a  consti 
tutional  disinclination  for  side  issues  once 
he  was  fairly  embarked.  But  there  ap 
peared  to  be  no  reason  to  restrain  Tommy. 
So  with  an  amused  smile  at  such  boyish 
enthusiasm,  he  watched  him  disappear 
behind  one  of  the  casa's  still  standing  walls. 
It  was  less  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the 
track.  Yes,  there  was  surely  plenty  of  time. 


A  MYSTERIOUS  DISAPPEARANCE    37 

Fifteen  minutes  went  by;  then  thirty; 
then  three  quarters  of  an  hour.  Tommy  did 
not  return.  The  engine  blew  a  series  of 
warning  whistles  which  echoed  with  startling 
grandeur  among  the  hills.  The  train  began 
slowly  to  move — but  still  no  Tommy. 
Purdy  was  vexed.  Such  carelessness,  even 
if  an  appearance  at  the  last  minute  made  up 
for  it  now,  would  mean  no  end  of  trouble 
before  they  were  through.  He  was  about 
to  lean  forward  and  address  some  fretful 
remark  to  the  stranger  who  had  pointed  out 
the  infernal  ruins  in  the  first  place,  but 
the  stir  of  mere  annoyance  had  ceased  to 
irritate  his  nerves,  giving  place  to  a  cold, 
wire-like  tension — the  realization  that  some 
thing  serious  had  taken  place.  The  stranger 
was  no  longer  in  his  section,  nor — as  in 
vestigation  proved — anywhere  on  the  train. 
The  landscape  outside  the  windows  slipped 
past  and  downward  with  an  ever-increasing 
momentum  like  something  falling  of  its  own 
weight. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE    REFUGEES 

IT  WAS  still  possible  to  leap  out  and  go 
back.  No  great  amount  of  speed  was 
being  made.  But  Purdy  returned  to 
his  place.  If  Tommy  was  as  unreliable  as 
all  this — or  if  he  had  already  come  to  the 
end  of  his  inclination  to  proceed — his  room 
would  be  better  than  his  company.  And 
if  he  had  met  with  some  kind  of  foul  play, 
why — that  was  one  of  the  fortunes  of  war. 
In  such  an  enterprise  a  man's  life  must 
count  for  nothing. 

Purdy  would  have  liked  to  play  the  hero. 
It  would  have  been  so  easy  to  waste  time 
looking  for  the  missing  little  paragrapher, 
for  whom  he  had  already  conceived  a  rather 
unreasonable  liking.  His  duty,  however, 
was  to  the  Service,  and  duty  ordered  him  to 

38 


THE  REFUGEES  39 

sit  still,  in  seeming  indifference,  and  to  let 
himself  be  carried  on  toward  his  destination. 
Besides,  how  could  he  be  sure  that  Tommy 
had  not  meant  to  lead  him  into  some  sort 
of  a  trap?  It  was  hard  to  be  forced  to  con 
sider  this  possibility,  but — Purdy  reasoned 
bitterly — everything  was  hard.  At  that 
moment  he  certainly  hated  his  job. 

But  on  reaching  the  terminal,  a  tiny 
station  half  hidden  in  the  clouds,  the  ne 
cessity  of  action  revived  his  spirits.  Tent, 
provisions,  three  ugly-looking  half-breed 
guides,  the  burros,  and  the  llama — the 
last  for  desperate  stages  where  something 
almost  supernaturally  sure-footed  might 
be  needed — were  all  hurried  from  the  bag 
gage  car.  He  did  indeed  notice  that  the 
rails  had  not  come  to  an  end.  But  beyond 
the  station  they  were  rusty.  It  was  just 
like  a  South  American  company  to  leave  an 
incompleted  section  dangling  uselessly  at 
the  end  of  their  road.  Instinct  told  him  to 
follow  those  rails — or  was  it  merely  curios- 


40  JUNGLE  TERROR 

ity? — but  having  been  assured  by  the 
station-agent  that  nothing  but  construction 
trains  had  ever  passed  over  them,  he  aban 
doned  the  idea.  His  own  route  lay  a  little 
more  to  the  east. 

The  real  journey  had  begun. 

For  several  days  all  went  well.  He  was 
approaching  the  cordillera  real — stupendous 
hills  the  like  of  which  he  had  never  seen. 
He  whistled  gaily  as  he  rode  along — the 
guides  on  foot,  ahead;  the  extra  animals 
following  them;  he  himself  bringing  up  the 
rear.  He  seemed  to  have  escaped  from  the 
troubles  behind  him.  The  troubles  yet 
before  did  not  for  the  moment  matter. 

Then  one  night  he  was  awakened  by  the 
half-breeds  talking  around  the  campfire— 
for  the  air  had  become  thin  and  cold,  and 
the  tropical  swelter  of  the  plains  a  memory. 
It  was  something  unusual  for  them  to  talk 
and  he  wondered  at  their  keeping  awake 
after  their  hard  day's  tramp.  Nor  were 
they  using  the  lingoa  geral,  or  "common 


THE  REFUGEES  41 

speech"  of  their  kind,  but  some  sullen  hill 
dialect  which  no  white  man  could  ever  hope 
to  understand.  Also  he  had  a  vague  notion 
that  what  had  aroused  him  was  another 
voice  than  theirs. 

He  took  a  cautious  stroll  about,  but 
nothing  out  of  the  way  was  to  be  seen,  and 
he  decided  that  he  must  have  been  dream 
ing.  The  next  day,  however,  the  guides' 
feet  seemed  to  be  made  of  lead,  and  once 
they  balked  in  open  mutiny  at  the  base  of 
a  trifling  little  ascent,  on  the  pretext  that 
they  could  not  climb  it.  Purdy  drew  his 
automatic,  and  the  caravan  moved  on. 
After  that  he  stopped  whistling.  The  sense 
of  being  free,  beyond  the  reach  of  the  unseen 
influences  which  had  grudgingly  watched 
his  departure,  no  longer  kept  him  company. 
The  sunlight  lost  its  brightness  as  well  as 
its  warmth.  The  solitude  became  appalling. 
He  was  nearing  the  region  of  unchronicled, 
untoward  happenings,  where  Fear  had  ap 
peared  and  turned  men's  hearts  to  water. 


42  JUNGLE  TERROR 

And  he  did  not  even  know  what  handicap 
he  might  be  carrying  with  him. 

What  surprised  him  most  was  the  absence 
of  refugees.  He  knew  this  was  where  they 
should  come,  and  had  expected  to  find  the 
trail  overrun  with  them.  It  was  a  wonder 
fully  good  trail,  too.  It  might  almost  be 
called  a  road.  Why  should  a  fleeing  popula 
tion  avoid  a  road  ?  A  road,  above  all  things, 
is  usually  man's  friend.  Wasn't  this  the 
right  one  ?  Had  he  lost  his  way  ? 

No;  by  noon  there  appeared  on  the  sky 
line  a  huge  gash,  clean  cut  through  the  moun 
tains  as  if  by  some  gigantic  sword.  This, 
unquestionably,  was  the  pass  to  Los  Altos. 

Leaving  the  main  trail  and  taking  a  bee- 
line  for  this  goal,  he  was  soon  with  his  party 
in  a  maze  of  narrow  paths,  like  sheep  tracks; 
and  here  at  last  the  solitude  was  broken. 
A  mist  had  drifted  over  the  intervening 
valley,  and  coming  toward  him  out  of  it 
was  a  man  who  seemed  fresh  from  a  personal 
encounter  with  the  devil.  He  was  better 


THE  REFUGEES  43 

dressed  than  the  ordinary  peon,  and  his 
well-fed  cheeks,  not  yet  sunken  by  forced 
marches  on  an  empty  stomach,  made  it 
clear  that  until  recently  he  had  been  in  very 
comfortable  circumstances.  But  his  gar 
ments  were  in  tatters,  and  his  face  almost 
as  pale  as  a  Caucasian's,  as  if  every  drop  of 
blood  had  been  bled  out  of  it. 

"Hello,  there!"  cried  Purdy  in  Spanish. 
"Am  I  headed  right  for  the  water-gap?" 

''You're  headed  for  it  right  enough,"  was 
the  answer,  spoken  in  the  same  language, 
but  the  tone  savoring  a  great  deal  more  of 
suspicion  than  of  friendliness. 

"And  have  I  any  chance  of  getting  there? 
You  look  as  if — as  if  a  fellow  might  not,  you 
know." 

"A  man  can  get  there,  serior,  if  he  wants 
to  go.  And  you  won't  need  your  tent." 

"Why  won't  I  need  my  tent?" 

"Just  beyond  the  gap  there  is  a  large 
mletta — and  several  scattered  settlements 
this  side  of  it." 


44  JUNGLE  TERROR 

"Well?" 

"You'll  find  every  cabin  deserted." 

Purdy  drew  the  man  toward  him,  and 
lowered  his  voice  so  that  he  might  not  be 
overheard. 

"What's  wrong  with  this  infernal  coun 
try?"  he  demanded. 

The  other  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"They  say  that  a  dragon  comes  out  of  the 
hills  and  devours  women  and  children,"  he 
answered. 

"What  rot!  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me 
that  you've  ever  seen  it?" 

"No,  I  haven't  seen  it,  sefior.  I  did 
not  wait.  It  is  better  not  to  wait — and 
see  too  much.  A  black  jaguar,  for  in 
stance." 

"What!"  cried  Purdy,  his  mind  instantly 
reverting  to  that  stray  newspaper  paragraph 
which  he  had  come  upon  while  looking  for 
sterner  matters — something  about  a  jungle 
beast  too  huge  to  be  brought  down  with 
ordinary  ammunition. 


THE  REFUGEES  45 

"  Si,  sefior.  One  might  see  a  jaguar  hid 
ing  in  a  tree  and  not  afraid  of  bullets." 

"Was  it  especially  large,  this  one  ?"  Purdy 
heard  himself  asking. 

"No,  not  large — but  black." 

The  fellow  refused  to  say  more,  and  re 
sumed  his  way,  throwing  behind  him  a  look 
that  seemed  freighted  with  incommunicable 
knowledge.  Purdy  forced  a  laugh,  and  told 
himself  that  he  was  on  nothing  more  or  less 
than  a  wild-goose  chase.  And  for  a  time  he 
almost  believed  it;  there  was  something  so 
medieval,  absurd,  and  un-South  American 
in  the  dragon  story,  and  something  so  child 
ish  in  the  other. 

Toward  nightfall,  however,  came  a  more 
sinister  interruption.  They  came  upon  a 
family  party,  led  by  a  bony  horse  attached 
to  a  pair  of  drag-poles  bearing  a  rough  litter, 
which  had  stopped  to  rest.  On  the  litter 
huddled  a  woman  with  two  wretched  babies 
in  her  lap;  and  by  her  side  stood  a  man, 
brown  and  half  naked.  Starvation  and 


46  JUNGLE  TERROR 

terror  mingled  in  the  dull  blur  which  was  his 
face. 

Purdy,  hurrying  forward  to  greet  them, 
was  nearly  overwhelmed  by  the  torrent  of 
semi-articulate  complaint  which  the  woman 
began  to  pour  forth.  The  country  behind 
them,  she  said,  was  cursed.  There  were 
devils  there — devils  that  burned  up  the  high 
ways  and  devastated  the  forests.  She  had 
not  seen  them  herself,  but  her  husband  had, 
and  so  had  her  husband's  brother. 

"Is  that  so?"  asked  Purdy,  turning  his 
attention  to  the  man.  "What  have  you 
seen?  What  are  you  running  away  from? 
You  seem  to  have  come  a  long  way." 

The  man  responded  by  pointing  to  a  spot 
where  the  edge  of  a  mountain  rill  had  been 
trampled  into  mud  by  a  drove  of  some  un 
known  inhabitants  of  the  wilderness,  and 
clapped  his  hand  to  his  nose  in  an  inexplica 
ble  and  utterly  ridiculous  gesture.  But  this 
time  Purdy  did  not  laugh.  The  man  was 
too  evidently  mad. 


THE  REFUGEES  47 

Purdy  finally  dismissed  the  miserable 
group  with  a  wave  of  his  hand.  They  could 
do  nothing  for  him,  nor  he  for  them.  Their 
very  distress  had  filled  him  with  a  sort  of 
resentment.  Why  couldn't  they  at  least 
have  kept  their  reason,  and  been  in  a  posi 
tion  to  tell  him  something  ?  Could  that  silly 
press  dispatch  have  been  right  in  saying  that 
people  were  going  insane  from  the  hardships 
of  travel  ?  What  hardships  ?  He  was  hav 
ing  no  trouble  himself — at  least  not  enough 
to  grow  insane  over. 

And  yet — how  was  he  going  to  maintain 
discipline  among  his  already  discontented 
guides?  One  could  not  always  march  be 
hind  them  with  drawn  gun.  Sometimes  a 
man  must  sleep.  And  what  was  to  hinder 
a  sleeping  man  from  being  robbed  and  left 
— say  with  his  throat  cut  ? 

He  had  seated  himself  upon  a  boulder  the 
better  to  think  over  the  situation  while  the 
camp  was  being  pitched  for  the  night.  Con 
found  Tommy!  Here  was  where  he  was 


48  JUNGLE  TERROR 

needed.  Silence  had  descended.  The  purl 
of  the  stream,  punctuated  by  an  occasional 
bleat  from  the  llama,  was  the  only  sound. 
It  struck  Purdy  suddenly  that  the  silence 
was  unnatural. 

A  few  moments  before  he  had  heard  the 
guides  muttering  among  themselves — dis 
puting,  apparently.  But  now  they  had 
fallen  speechless.  A  glance  over  his  shoul 
der  showed  two  of  them  crouching  over  the 
llama,  busily  adjusting  its  pack  to  its  back. 
The  third  guide  and  the  ponies  were  no 
where  to  be  seen. 

"Hold  on,  there!"  shouted  Purdy,  jump 
ing  up  and  once  more  bringing  his  weapon 
into  play. 

The  fellows  started,  broke  into  discordant 
laughter  and  dashed  for  the  cover  of  the 
underbrush,  the  llama's  pack  sliding  to  the 
ground.  He  heard  the  shouts  of  their  hid 
den  companion  and  the  sounds  of  horses 
driven  recklessly,  gradually  ceasing  in  the 
distance. 


THE  REFUGEES  49 

They  had  got  the  better  of  him  sooner 
than  he  had  expected,  and  had  made  away 
with  a  good  three  fourths  of  the  stores.  But 
he  still  had  the  llama  and  its  pack,  and  his 
own  throat  intact.  Good  luck,  on  the 
whole — rare  good  luck. 

Purdy  set  about  building  a  fire.  He 
would  make  some  coffee,  eat  a  few  hard  bis 
cuits,  and  turn  in.  But  while  looking  for 
wood  his  eyes  fell  upon  something  shiny 
lying  upon  the  ground.  It  was  a  small  gold 
coin.  In  his  haste  to  escape,  one  of  the 
guides  had  dropped  it. 

A  half-breed  Indian  with  a  gold  coin! 
Somebody  had  followed  them,  somebody 
with  things  like  these  in  his  pocket.  Purdy 
felt  an  uncomfortable  stir  in  the  roots  of  his 
hair.  An  impalpable  web  encompassed  him. 
That  which  he  went  to  meet  had  something 
to  do  with  that  which  he  had  left  behind. 
He  had  been  unable  to  kick  loose,  to  get  a 
free  start.  And  how  lonely  he  was ! 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    FATE    OF   THE    PRIEST 

BUT  by  dawn  he  was  ready  to  resume 
his  journey.     Company,  of  a  sort, 
would    probably    soon    be    plenty 
enough. 

In  the  course  of  the  day  he  did  meet  a  few 
hill  folk.  But  though  all  were  in  a  state 
of  more  or  less  complete  mental  disorganiza 
tion,  not  one  had  come  from  within  the  circle 
of  high  peaks  toward  which  his  way  was 
tending.  They  had  lived  on  the  outskirts 
of  the  secret,  had  been  moved  by  mere 
rumours,  and  had  come  around,  not  through, 
the  mountains.  As  for  the  inhabitants  of  Los 
Altos,  they  must  have  taken  another  direc 
tion  altogether.  Why?  What  could  mean 
this  avoidance  of  roads  ?  Surely  they  would 
not  rush  for  the  trackless  northern  pampas. 

S° 


THE  FATE  OF  THE  PRIEST        51 

"Probably  I'll  find  them  safe  in  their 
homes,  minding  their  own  business,"  said 
Purdy  to  himself. 

But  he  really  had  no  such  conviction. 
Already  he  had  passed  several  huts  and 
cabins — all  deserted.  They  gave  him  an 
uncomfortable  feeling.  It  would  have  been 
easier  to  contend  against  an  army  than  this 
general  emptiness. 

However,  he  trudged  on,  now  through  a 
forest  of  dark  conifers,  now  across  compara 
tive  open  spaces  carpeted  with  gorgeous 
and  seemingly  unseasonable  wild  flowers; 
while  from  either  side  of  the  pass,  half  lost 
in  the  clouds,  looked  down  pale,  ghostly 
slopes  of  eternal  snow. 

It  was  nearly  evening  when  he  finally 
emerged  from  this  sunken  ravine  and  found 
himself  upon  the  upturned  edge,  so  to  speak, 
of  a  great  plateau.  The  sun  at  his  back, 
setting  early,  sent  the  shadows  of  domed 
summits  far  out  toward  the  centre  of  the 
expanse.  The  land  in  the  middle  distance, 


52  JUNGLE  TERROR 

evidently  of  alluvial  formation,  lay  as 
flat  as  a  lake  and  as  large  as  a  county. 
The  air  was  as  still  as  death.  Not  a  thing 
stirred.  Gradually,  as  the  sun  sank  lower, 
the  shadows  crept  farther  and  yet  farther 
toward  the  distant  eastern  escarpments 
until  they  mingled  with  the  hills  themselves, 
rising  higher  and  ever  higher  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach.  It  was  like  a  vast  theatre 
with  a  back-drop  of  endless  perspective  rep 
resenting  some  malignant  Country  of  the 
Giants.  But  the  play  was  over.  The 
stage  was  empty.  The  lights  were  being 
put  out.  He  had  come  too  late. 

Such  was  his  first  thought.  But  a  mo 
ment's  observation  showed  him  that  the 
theatre  might  not  yet  be  empty  after  all. 
In  a  hollow  of  the  slope  almost  directly  be 
neath  his  feet  was  what  looked  like  a  deeper 
shadow  upon  the  general  dusk.  Scrutiny 
resolved  it  into  a  cluster  of  shadows.  This 
was  Los  Altos.  He  had  arrived. 

Night  is  no  time  for  exploration,  so  having 


THE  FATE  OF  THE  PRIEST       53 

unburdened  the  llama,  made  camp,  and  par 
taken  of  a  scanty  meal,  he  rolled  himself  in  a 
blanket  and  tried  to  sleep.  But  sleeping 
was  difficult.  The  vicinity  of  a  spot  where 
men  have  shown  the  white  feather  and 
abandoned  their  homes  to  bats  is  no  place 
for  pleasant  dreams.  He  longed  to  surprise 
some  movement,  some  sign  of  human  life,  if 
it  were  only  a  cry  of  distress  or  the  challenge 
of  an  enemy.  But  all  was  as  silent  as  a 
landscape  on  the  moon. 

However,  not  even  night  can  last  forever, 
and  when  he  finally  set  foot  within  the  vil 
lage  he  had  at  least  the  company  of  sun 
shine.  The  place  was  already  familiar  from 
descriptions  which  Tommy  had  been  careful 
to  collect;  one  or  two  decent  houses,  built 
by  white  traders,  a  surrounding  area  of 
native  huts,  and  an  outer  circle  of  shapeless, 
skin-made  tepees.  Everything  looked  as  he 
had  expected  it  to  look.  Only,  there  was 
nobody  in  the  streets,  nor  at  the  windows 
to  see  him  pass.  Most  of  the  doors  stood 


54  JUNGLE  TERROR 

open,  but  without  inviting  entrance.  The 
sun  cast  fantastic  shadows  upon  these  sills, 
shadows  that  were  hard  and  sharp,  and 
deeper  than  seemed  natural.  The  gaping 
interiors  were  repellent. 

Conquering  his  aversion,  Purdy  entered 
hut  after  hut.  He  came  upon  no  one,  dead 
or  alive.  There  had  at  least  been  no  pesti 
lence,  which  was  one  relief.  Such  poor  fur 
niture  as  the  places  were  likely  ever  to 
have  contained  rested  untouched.  Noth 
ing  but  bare  necessities  had  been  carried 
away. 

The  better  class  of  houses  showed  a  like 
state  of  things,  and  he  made  his  way  to  the 
public  square,  where  the  main  and  generally 
level  street  met  the  mountain  road.  He 
stood  for  a  moment  in  front  of  the  squat 
Jesuit  mission,  which  was  the  principal 
building  in  the  settlement.  Here  was  the 
roomy  plaza  of  what  had  once  been  a  pros 
perous  puebla.  There  were  said  to  be  min 
eral  deposits  in  the  vicinity,  as  well  as  game 


THE  FATE  OF  THE  PRIEST        55 

and  dye-woods.  It  had  been  a  great  place 
for  traders.  But  the  traders  were  gone. 

Purdy  shouted.  The  only  answer  was  his 
own  voice  thrown  back  from  the  inscrutable 
peaks.  He  could  have  borne  the  emptiness 
of  the  huts  and  tepees.  It  does  not  take 
much  to  drive  away  a  semi-barbarous, 
almost  nomadic  population.  But  what  of 
the  decent  houses  whose  inhabitants  must 
have  been  of  a  blood  more  nearly  akin  to 
his  own  ?  What,  above  all,  of  the  building 
annexed  to  the  church,  which  must  have 
been  the  priest's  ? 

He  examined  the  exterior  of  the  priest's 
house  minutely.  Though  of  wood,  it  bore, 
like  the  church,  some  traces  of  gaudy  paint 
ing,  some  indications  of  an  attempt  at 
architecture.  But  of  that  which  he  sought 
to  know  it  had  nothing  to  say. 

Stepping  resolutely  through  the  door,  he 
explored  the  interior — without  result.  It 
was  just  a  collection  of  vacant  rooms.  Fi 
nally  he  came  upon  a  door  which  was  closed. 


56  JUNGLE  TERROR 

Cautiously  he  pushed  it  open.  It  gave  upon 
a  narrow,  arbour-like  passage,  boarded  in 
against  the  weather  and  leading,  as  was 
apparent,  toward  the  church  itself.  A  sort 
of  alcove  near  the  farther  end  had  probably 
served  as  the  sacristy.  Here  was  the  priest's 
own  writing-table;  a  rusty  pen;  a  bottle  of 
dried-up  ink,  and  a  lot  of  letter-paper  scat 
tered  along  the  passage  as  if  swept  to  the 
floor  by  the  hurrying  skirt  of  a  cassock. 

A  moment  later,  following  the  trail  of 
paper,  Purdy  found  himself  within  the  chan 
cel,  where  in  service  time  he  would  have 
been  facing  the  rude,  unlettered  congrega 
tion  which  doubtless  had  so  often  crowded 
the  rustic  nave  and  transepts.  But  now 
the  benches,  instead  of  being  in  stiff  and 
solemn  rows,  were  tossed  in  heaps.  The 
Stations  of  the  Cross — rude  chromos  that 
had  once  given  a  touch  of  colour  to  the  un- 
decorated  walls — were  torn  and  trampled. 
The  cross  itself  had  been  thrown  down. 

Purdy's  eyes  went  slowly  from  its  vacant 


THE  FATE  OF  THE  PRIEST       57 

place  on  the  altar  to  its  present  position  on 
the  floor.  He  felt  his  heart  begin  suddenly 
to  beat  like  a  hammer.  For  there,  near  the 
cross,  lay  a  still  figure.  Tonsure  and  vest 
ment  identified  it  beyond  a  doubt.  The 
priest  had  died  at  his  post. 

Here,  at  last,  was  a  witness.  The  people 
of  Los  Altos  had  left  a  clue  to  what  had 
overtaken  them.  But  the  clue  was  a  riddle. 
The  lips  of  the  witness  were  sealed.  Is 
there  not  a  proverb  which  says  that  dead 
men  tell  no  tales  ? 

Purdy,  who  knew  that  in  spite  of  proverbs 
the  dead  are  sometimes  loquacious,  knelt 
down  before  the  prostrate  form.  Something 
crumpled  and  white  showed  between  the 
cold  fingers.  It  was  a  bit  of  paper.  He 
gained  possession  of  this  with  difficulty,  for 
the  fingers  seemed  reluctant  to  part  with 
what  they  held.  Then  he  seated  himself  on 
an  overturned  bench,  spread  out  the  paper 
on  his  knee — and  became  lost  in  thought. 
Once  perused,  it  would  no  longer  be  a  piece 


58  JUNGLE  TERROR 

of  paper  merely.  It  would  be  a  voice.  He 
could  almost  hear  it  already,  echoing  among 
the  exposed  rafters  overhead.  But  when  he 
finally  gave  his  attention  to  the  lines  their 
import  was  disappointing.  He  read : 

My  people  are  insane  with  fear.  They  have  risen 
against  their  God,  and  are  gathering  outside  to  kill 
me — as  if  I  had  brought  this  thing.  I  am  going  now 
to  make  one  more  effort  to  control  them.  But  the 
events  of  the  past  week  have  hurled  them  back  into 
savagery,  and  I  am  afraid  that  I  shall  fail.  I  cannot 
even  make  them  flee  in  the  right  direction.  Their 
souls  are  like  the  wheat  through  which  Samson's 
foxes  scattered  with  the  firebrands.  Alas,  how 
terribly  apt  that  figure  is!  We  are  consumed  with 
terror  which  is  like  a  flame,  and  a  flame  which  is 
terror  itself.  If  only  I  knew  more.  But  I  am  like  a 
child  babbling  an  incredible  tale.  However,  I  have 
made  certain  of  much;  and  if  worst  comes  to  the 
worst,  and  this  paper  be  found  by  some  friend  from 
the  outside  world,  let  him  read  on  carefully.  This 
jungle  terror 

A  ragged  edge  closed  the  sentence.  Purdy 
hunted  in  vain  for  the  rest  of  the  note. 
Whatever  had  torn  it  in  two  had  made  away 
with  the  final  half — if  the  final  half  had  ever 


THE  FATE  OF  THE  PRIEST        59 

been  written.  More  likely  the  garrulous 
old  priest  had  wasted  too  much  time  with 
his  homilies  and  now  God  alone  knew  what 
he  had  wished  to  reveal. 

There  was  nothing  more  to  be  discovered, 
and  Purdy,  finding  a  pick  and  shovel,  ripped 
up  a  few  boards  from  in  front  of  the  altar 
and  performed  as  best  he  could  the  pious 
office  of  rendering  dust  to  dust.  Used  to 
an  adventurous  life  the  mere  presence  of 
death  affected  him  but  little.  And  yet  as 
he  stood  there  looking  thoughtfully  down  at 
the  new-made  grave,  he  was  moved  to  swear 
a  solemn  oath  that  the  cause  of  this  martyr's 
death  should  not  remain  unknown. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    PORTENT 

THERE  was  a  sudden  clatter  in  the 
world  outside  and  Purdy  hurried  to 
the  door.     Two  horses  were  racing 
through  the  village  street,  one  bearing  an 
empty  saddle,  the  other  carrying  a  man. 
Though  his  head  was  swathed  in  a  bandage 
there  was  no  mistaking  Tommy. 

"Lord!  but  you've  been  making  tracks," 
he  cried,  leaping  to  the  ground.  "  I  was  be 
ginning  to  think  you  had  seven-league  boots." 
Purdy  regarded  him.  Company  was 
grateful,  certainly,  but  he  could  not  forget 
on  the  instant  that  this  young  fellow  had 
much  to  explain.  Tommy  shook  hands  en 
thusiastically,  and  then  drew  back. 

"Say!"  he  exclaimed;  "you  don't  think  I 

cut  away  intentionally,  do  you?" 

60 


THE  PORTENT  61 

"I  don't  know  what  to  think,"  Purdy  re 
sponded.  "Your  coming  back  seems  to 
argue  that  you  didn't.  But  I'm  not  sure 
you're  going  to  be  of  any  use  to  me — a  man 
who  loses  trains — or  his  nerve,  maybe. 
What's  the  answer?" 

"See  here,  man!  You  left  me — to  die 
for  all  you  knew.  And  you  don't  hear  me 
complaining,  do  you?  No,  sir.  I  under 
stood.  You  had  your  job,  and  you  did 
quite  right.  But  if  you're  going  to  think 
that  I  got  cold  feet,  or  maybe — well,  there's 
nothing  left  for  me  but  to  hike  it  back. 
But  here  are  your  ponies.  It's  a  wonder 
you  wouldn't  recognize  them." 

Purdy  melted  instantly,  and  held  out  his 
hand. 

"Forgive  me,  old  chap,"  he  said.  "I 
ought  to  have  known.  But  up  here  a  man 
begins  to  think  he's  going  woozy  and  dis 
trusts  even  himself — let  alone  other  people. 
Tell  me,  what  happened  to  you?" 

"In  the  first  place,"  began  Tommy,  ap- 


62  JUNGLE  TERROR 

peased,  and  sitting  down  with  his  friend 
upon  the  church  steps,  while  the  ponies 
panted  wearily  at  the  end  of  their  bridle 
reins,  "in  the  first  place,  I  had  a  reason  for 
going  over  that  casa.  The  original  hint  of 
anything  wrong  in  this  neck  of  the  woods 
came  from  there .  It  was  a  little  thing,  which 
never  got  into  print — the  story  of  a  pond 
that  would  suddenly  have  ripples  all  over 
it  when  there  wasn't  any  wind.  It  seemed 
ridiculous,  but  it  set  me  thinking.  Then 
came  a  report  that  the  casa  had  been 
wrecked  by  a  curse  which  a  witch-doctor 
had  put  upon  it,  and  that  Krieg,  the  man 
who'd  lived  there,  had  been  frightened  into 
killing  himself.  I  didn't  believe  all  the 
silly  details,  but  I  wanted  to  get  a  glimpse 
of  the  ruins.  I  had  heard  a  few  things  about 
this  Krieg  before,  and  thought  that  his 
suicide,  after  he'd  been  seen  alive  about  the 
wreck,  sounded  fishy.  If  he  was  really  dead, 
I  thought  I  ought  to  find  a  body,  or  some 
thing.  Nobody  would  have  been  likely  to 


THE  PORTENT  63 

disturb  it — there  was  too  much  superstition 
around. 

"So  I  was  nosing  among  what  remained 
of  the  walls,  listening  all  the  while  for  a 
whistle  from  the  train,  when  something 
rapped  me  over  the  head — and  the  next 
thing  I  knew  it  was  night,  and  I  was  lying 
on  my  back  studying  astronomy.  I'd  been 
left  for  dead,  I  gathered,  and  there  wasn't 
a  soul,  let  alone  a  train,  to  be  seen. 

"  Later,  those  nice  guides  of  yours  came 
back  my  way,  and  I  thought  you  were  prob 
ably  done  for.  But  I  still  had  my  money  on 
me,  and  had  no  trouble  in  getting  the  ponies 
and  a  sack  of  grub.  I  fancy  they  thought 
they  were  being  bribed  again.  They  were 
certainly  flush  when  I  left  them.  But  I 
couldn't  get  any  information  from  their 
gabble.  And — well,  here  I  am." 

Purdy,  touched  by  such  adventures  so 
simply  told,  unfolded  his  own.  Tommy 
listened  attentively.  But  evidently  his 
curiosity  was  not  satisfied. 


64  JUNGLE  TERROR 

"Haven't  you  seen  anything — peculiar?" 
he  asked. 

"Nothing  but  what  I  have  told  you. 
Isn't  that  peculiar  enough?  Of  course  it 
isn't  'sheep  plague'." 

"Oh,  did  you  read  that?  I  got  so  mad 
there  one  time  having  stories  suppressed 
that  I  just  thought  I'd  give  them  that  to  get 
even.  But  you  haven't  seen  any  burnt 
things — nor  hollows,  for  instance?" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? " 

"I  stuck  to  the  main  trail  longer  I  guess 
than  you  did,"  the  journalist  observed. 
"Quite  a  stunning  trail — a  regular  boule 
vard.  You  must  have  noticed.  Mighty 
curious  thing,  here  in  the  wilderness.  That 
extension  of  the  Los  Altos  railroad,  too.  I 
followed  that  for  a  way,  till  it  simply  quit 
on  me.  Not  a  house  in  sight.  That  isn't 
exactly  usual,  for  a  railroad.  But  the  trail 
— there  was  one  place  where  it  looked  as  if 
it  had  been  scooped  out — fresh  dirt — I  don't 
know  exactly  how  to  describe  it.  But  it  was 


THE  PORTENT  65 

as  clean  as  if  a  sand-blast  had  been  run  over 
it.  And  the  trees — they  were  scorched, 
that's  all  there  is  to  it.'* 

"It  must  have  been  lightning." 

"I  suppose  it  must  have  been,"  assented 
Tommy,  but  without  conviction;  "light 
ning — for  a  quarter  of  a  mile!" 

"What  else  could  it  have  been?" 

"That's  just  the  point.  But  there's  an 
other  thing." 

The  men  had  risen  and  were  looking  to 
ward  the  sun,  as  if  it  had  occurred  to  them 
simultaneously  that  it  was  time  to  be  think 
ing  of  moving  on  to  some  place  more  pleasant 
for  the  night's  camp.  Purdy  walked  across 
the  street  to  where  the  llama  was  feeding, 
turned  the  beast  loose  to  follow  at  will,  and 
strapped  the  pack  it  had  been  carrying  to 
the  back  of  his  recovered  burro. 

"Well,  what  is  it?  What  other  thing?" 
he  finally  asked. 

"  I  was  on  my  back  among  the  ruins,  as  I 
told  you,"  Tommy  answered,  "and  was 


66  JUNGLE  TERROR 

staring  at  the  stars,  trying  to  collect  my 
wits.  Maybe  I  dreamed  it,  but  I  thought 
that  a  face  suddenly  stooped  down  from 
somewhere  and  looked  at  me." 

"  It  must  have  been  a  dream,  for  you  say 
you  found  nobody  about." 

"A  funny  dream,  though.  It  scared  me, 
naturally,  and  I  shut  my  eyes,  expecting 
to  be  knocked  out  for  keeps  every  minute. 
I  thought  at  first  it  was  that  fellow  who  sat 
in  the  seat  ahead  of  us  on  the  train.  And 
then  I  realized  that  it  hadn't  been  a  man's 
face  at  all." 

"Not  a  man's  face?" 

"No;  but  I  remember  seeing  once  that 
pretty  French  maid  that  you  say  locked 
you  in  at  the  Presidente's." 

"Tommy!"  cried  Purdy,  leaping  into  the 
saddle,  "let's  get  on.  You  are  a  stark,  rav 
ing  lunatic." 

The  moment  they  pushed  forward  beyond 
the  abandoned  villeta  it  was  evident  that 
they  were  following  in  the  wake  of  the 


THE  PORTENT  67 

departed  mob.  The  ground  was  trampled, 
but  not  a  living  creature  was  to  be  seen. 

"I  don't  understand  it,"  said  Purdy, 
finally.  "These  people  were  running  in  the 
wrong  direction — as  the  priest  said  they 
would.  One  would  think  the  danger  came 
from " 

"Maybe  they  ran  toward  it — in  an  at 
tack,"  suggested  Tommy.  "We  haven't 
found  any  packs  or  household  goods,  or 
anything  like  that.  It  looks  almost  as  if 
we  were  trailing  after  a  well-drilled  army." 

"An  army  wouldn't  have  women  and 
children  with  it,"  Purdy  objected.  "  Haven't 
you  noticed  the  shreds  of  petticoats  on  the 
bushes?  No,  it  was  the  mob  all  right. 
And  I  should  say  that  something  came  up 
very  suddenly — behind  it.  There  ought  to 
be  stragglers,  though.  In  a  village  of  that 
size  there  must  have  been  some  who  could 
not  travel  very  far,  and  their  friends  could 
hardly  carry  them  forever.  We'll  have 
somebody  to  talk  to  before  the  day  is  over." 


68  JUNGLE  TERROR 

But  the  day  was  already  advanced,  and 
it  drew  to  a  close  without  this  prophecy 
being  fulfilled.  The  two  travellers  had 
reached  the  middle  of  the  plateau.  About 
them  was  an  apparently  unbroken  ring  of 
snow-capped  peaks.  The  sun  was  setting 
behind  Los  Altos  in  their  rear — a  yellow 
globe,  sharp,  distinct,  unfamiliar. 

"Do  you  know  what  that  looks  like  to 
me?"  said  Tommy,  with  an  attempt  at 
laughter.  "  It  looks  like  the  yolk  of  an  egg. 
And  it's  going  to  be  broken  on  the  edge  of  a 
frying-pan.  Watch ! " 

Purdy  smiled.  It  did  indeed  look  rather 
like  an  egg.  And  the  circular  plane  with 
its  edge  of  hills  was  sufficiently  suggestive 
of  a  pan.  There  was  even  a  stupendous 
peak  towering  above  the  others  in  the  dis 
tance  ahead  to  serve  as  handle.  Then,  as  if 
to  carry  out  the  figure,  the  mists,  rising 
slowly  from  the  ground,  were  suddenly 
streaked  with  yellow. 

"We're  in  an  omelet,"  cried  Tommy,  dis- 


THE  PORTENT  69 

mounting  at  the  spot  where  they  were  to 
pass  the  night. 

But  Purdy  wasn't  listening.  He  stood, 
drawn  to  his  full  height,  his  back  to  the  sun 
set,  his  breath  coming  and  going  with  that 
ecstatic  sense  of  danger  which  comes  to  the 
true  campaigner  when  a  foe,  long  sought, 
declares  his  presence  and  takes  his  stand. 

"Anyway,  we're  no  longer  alone  in  the 
world,"  he  declared,  pointing. 

Tommy  exclaimed.  There  could  be  no 
doubt  of  what  he  saw.  Rising  from  the 
base  of  one  of  the  foot-hills  in  the  very 
direction  of  their  journey  was  a  filmy  but 
unmistakable  column  of  smoke. 


CHAPTER  VII 
DEATH'S  NEIGHBOURHOOD 

SHORTLY  after  daybreak  the  smoke 
arose  again — now  like  a  beckoning 
finger.  A  while  afterward  it  dis 
appeared,  but  Purdy  and  Tommy  had  al 
ready  taken  its  bearings,  and  advanced 
toward  the  spot. 

The  ground  began  to  rise,  at  first  grad 
ually,  and  then  with  an  ever-steeper  ascent. 
It  was  no  longer  bare,  but  covered  with  tall, 
misshapen  bushes  and  later  with  a  growth  of 
mountain  conifers.  In  an  open  grove  of  these 
they  halted.  Before  them  lay  what  had  once 
been  the  body  of  a  man.  It  was  torn  almost 
to  shreds.  Farther  on  there  were  other 
bodies  and  others.  It  was  like  a  battlefield. 

"All  natives  as  far  as  I  can  make  out/' 
Purdy  observed.  "I  wonder " 

70 


DEATH'S  NEIGHBOURHOOD       71 

"Look!" 

Tommy  pointed  with  an  unsteady  index 
toward  a  figure  lying  by  itself.  It  was 
clothed  in  blue  overalls,  with  a  workman's 
blouse  and  cap. 

"A  white  man!" 

"And  a  labourer,  Tommy.  That's  not 
South  American." 

"Anyway,  he  was  killed  like  a  Christian 
—a  blow  in  the  head.  Not  like  some  of 
these  others." 

In  a  few  minutes  they  had  counted  a 
score  of  these  overalled  corpses.  Some  had 
been  killed  "like  Christians,"  others  in  a 
manner  not  to  be  described. 

"Women  and  children,  too,"  continued 
Purdy,  moving  steadily  forward.  "What 
do  you  make  of  it  ?" 

"Some  of  their  clothes  are — scorched!" 

Tommy's  teeth  were  all  but  chattering, 
but  Purdy  only  nodded.  He  had  come  to 
the  stump  of  a  mighty  evergreen — broken 
off  short.  And  beyond  it  there  was  a  dis- 


72  JUNGLE  TERROR 

tinct  swath  cut  through  the  forest,  as  if  the 
trees  had  been  stalks  of  grass  mown  by  a 
scythe. 

"Scorched — cut — broken.  I  think  we've 
seen  enough  here.  Let's  go  on." 

"All  right.  Have — have  you  got  a  flask 
with  you  ?  Mine  is  empty." 

Purdy  gave  his  companion  a  critical,  ap 
praising  glance,  and  handed  him  some 
brandy.  The  colour  returned  to  the  boyish, 
too  loosely  moulded  face,  and  a  defiant, 
reckless  carriage  to  the  shoulders.  Here, 
should  the  worst  happen,  was  a  sadly  broken 
reed  to  lean  upon.  But  the  march  was  re 
sumed  without  a  word.  And  the  ponies, 
which  had  been  almost  unmanageable  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  death,  again  permitted 
themselves  to  be  ridden.  The  llama  had 
disappeared. 

"One  thing  about  this  country — it  looks 
peaceful,"  said  Tommy  some  hours  later. 
"Now  that  my  blood  is  in  circulation  again, 
hang  me  if  I  don't  believe  we  dreamed  it — 


DEATH'S  NEIGHBOURHOOD        73 

about  those  dead  men.  There  were  too 
many  of  them  to  be  real." 

Purdy,  his  attention  fixed  on  something 
to  one  side  on  the  ground,  said  nothing. 

They  were  now  skirting  a  beautiful  little 
lake,  which  nestled  in  a  fold  of  the  hills  and 
reflected  the  serene  morning  sky  from  a 
surface  as  untroubled  as  that  of  a  mirror. 
Then,  just  as  they  were  about  to  turn  their 
backs  upon  it,  the  lake  seemed  to  shiver, 
broke  into  innumerable  ripples,  and  finally 
sent  a  wave  splashing  loudly  against  the 
shore.  Purdy  leaped  down  and  touched 
the  water  cautiously  with  his  finger. 

"As  cold  as  ice!  A  geyser  ought  to  be 
warm." 

"But  this  isn't  a  geyser." 

' What  then?" 

"Quien  sabe  ?  I  told  you  I'd  heard  of  a 
pond  that  rippled  without  any  wind.  This 
is  another  one." 

Tommy  was  quite  collected  by  this  time. 
A  little  brandy  now  and  then,  and  never  a 


74  JUNGLE  TERROR 

drop  too  much — that  appeared  to  be  the 
medicine.  But  it  wouldn't  do  to  trust  it 
too  far.  For  instance,  Purdy  did  not  dare 
mention  what  he  had  seen  just  before  com 
ing  to  the  lake — the  body  of  the  llama  lying 
stone  dead  in  the  underbrush. 

It  was  about  mid-afternoon  when  they 
came  upon  a  tiny  log  cabin  with  a  pile  of 
smouldering  embers  before  it.  This  was 
evidently  the  source  of  the  smoke  which  had 
served  as  their  guide  across  the  plateau. 
A  battered  collection  of  pots  and  pans  care 
lessly  washed  and  left  to  dry  in  the  sun  told 
of  masculine  housekeeping,  but  at  first 
there  appeared  to  be  nobody  about.  Then 
the  cheerful  sound  of  a  pick  came  to  their 
ears,  and  farther  on  they  saw  a  little  hump 
backed  old  man  working  busily  and  peace 
fully  at  the  mouth  of  a  shallow  drift  cut 
into  a  shelf  of  crumbling  quartz,  as  if  this 
were  some  placer  claim  in  sunny  California. 
He  would  pound  his  takings  fine,  scoop 
them  up  in  an  enormous  skillet,  and  wash 


DEATH'S  NEIGHBOURHOOD       75 

them  out  at  a  mountain  rivulet  which  flowed 
near  as  if  for  his  special  benefit. 

His  back  was  toward  the  intruders,  and 
when  Purdy  called  out  he  did  not  pay  the 
slightest  attention.  He  seemed  deaf.  Then 
Tommy,  who  was  walking  ahead,  picked 
up  a  handful  of  gravel  and  threw  it.  The 
old  man  wheeled  as  the  gravel  stones  fell 
about  him  and  uttered  a  cry  of  surprise  in 
which  there  was  an  element  not  only  of  fear 
but  of  ferocious  delight.  Only  one  word 
was  clearly  distinguishable — "goggles!" 
And  as  he  uttered  it  he  snatched  a  clumsy- 
looking  revolver  from  his  pocket,  and 
fired. 

His  movements  were  quick  and  jerky,  but 
Purdy's  were  quicker.  He  had  shot  and 
winged  his  man  at  the  first  hostile  sign,  and 
the  bullet  which  might  have  dropped 
Tommy  in  his  tracks  went  wild. 

"Yankees!"  groaned  the  miner,  clutch 
ing  his  wounded  arm  and  coming  forward, 
his  face  twisted  with  pain.  "If  I'd  only 


76  JUNGLE  TERROR 

V  known.  Mebbe,  though,  you're  as  bad 
as  any  of  'em.  You  never  kin  tell." 

"Who  are  you  ?"  demanded  Purdy,  speak 
ing  very  loud.  "And  what  do  you  mean  by 
trying  to  pot  strangers  this  way  ?  I  simply 
had  to  shoot.  Did  I  hurt  you  much?" 

"  I  reckon  you  hurt  me  a  good  deal,  part 
ner.  I'm  a  bit  deef,  and  you  came  on  me 
kinda  sudden.  But  my  arm  ain't  broke. 
Help  me  off  with  this  shirt,  will  you  ?  My 
name's  Briggs.  Tear  off  somethin*  for  a 
bandage.  Damn  slug  went  clean  through 
me.  I'm  bleedin'  to  death." 

"Let  it  bleed — it  will  do  you  good,"  said 
Purdy,  producing  a  surgical  kit  from  the 
pack  of  the  burro  he  had  all  the  time  been 
holding  firmly  by  the  bridle.  "But  what 
if  we  did  come  upon  you  suddenly  ?  Any 
reason  up  here  for  being  afraid  of  people 
in  general?" 

A  look  of  child-like  cunning  stole  into  the 
hunchback's  wrinkled  face. 

"I  ain't  savin'  nothing,"  he   muttered. 


DEATH'S  NEIGHBOURHOOD       77 

"There  ain't  nothing  to  say.  But  if  you 
was  to  want  to  stake  out  a  claim  alongside 
of  mine  I  wouldn't  say  nothing,  either.  The 
ground  is  rich — rich,  I  tell  you.  And  I  been 
gittin'  lonesome  peggin'  away  here  by  my 
self." 

"The  fellow  has  found  gold/'  Purdy  re 
marked  to  Tommy  later,  when  they  had  all 
eaten  a  comfortable  supper  of  the  miner's 
providing  and  the  miner  himself  had  retired 
to  his  bunk  in  the  cabin  to  get  such  sleep 
as  his  wound  might  permit.  The  campfire 
blazed  brightly.  It  was  an  hour  which  in 
vited  a  pipe  and  a  general  summing  up  of 
the  situation. 

"He  seems  friendly,  too,"  said  Tommy, 
lazily  stretching  himself  before  the  blaze. 
"That's  what  I  can't  understand — after 
the  way  he  first  received  us." 

"It's  plain  enough  that  he  took  you  for 
someone  else — that's  the  answer.  When 
he  saw  you  he  shouted  out:  'There's  them 
goggles !'  or  something  like  that.  You  were 


78  JUNGLE  TERROR 

ahead,  and  you  were  wearing  goggle*,  too. 
Remember?" 

"That's  right.  I  hadn't  taken  them  off 
since  the  sun-glare  on  the  plateau  began 
to  hurt  jmy  eyes.  We're  to  look  out  for  a 
man  with  goggles,  then." 

"  I  think  so,  Tommy.  Anyway,  we're  to 
look  out  for  a  man.  And  when  you  come 
to  consider  the  matter,  that's  about  the 
worst  thing  one  ever  does  have  to  look  out 
for." 

"But  why  don't  Briggs  talk?  He  wants 
us  to  stay." 

"He  *wa'nts  us  to  keep  him  company. 
He's  afraid  to  stay  here  alone.  But  yet 
he  doesn't  quite  trust  us.  Don't  know  as  we 
can  blame  him  for  that." 

"Are  we  to  trust  him?" 

"You're  right,  Tommy.  One  of  us  had 
better  keep  awake,  turn  about.  The  trouble 
with  Briggs  is,  he's  in  a  panic.  Only  his 
gold  keeps  him  here.  No  telling  what  a 
frightened  man  will  do — especially  when  you 


DEATH'S  NEIGHBOURHOOD       79 

don't  know  what  he's  frightened  about. 
But  here  he  comes  now." 

Briggs  had  appeared  in  the  doorway,  and 
began  to  complain  about  his  arm.  Purdy 
renewed  the  dressing,  noted  that  the  wound 
showed  no  signs  of  inflammation,  and  in 
vited  the  hunchback  to  sit  a  while  by  the 
fire.  The  invitation  was  accepted,  but  the 
conversation  clung  persistently  to  the  com 
monplace.  Briggs  seemed  interested  only 
in  his  mine.  He  had  been  prospecting  for 
silver,  he  said,  when  he  had  accidently  dis 
covered  gold,  and — having  since  then  lost 
his  partner — was  now  "  naturally  hankerin' 
to  hear  the  English  language." 

"See  here,  old  chap,"  broke  in  Purdy, 
finally.  "I'm  not  a  miner,  but  I'm  not 
exactly  a  tenderfoot,  either.  Something 
is  wrong  up  here.  Never  mind  the  gold. 
Tell  us  about  the — whatever  it  is  that's 
loose." 

Briggs  looked  uncomfortable. 

"There  ain't  nothing  to  tell,"  he  began, 


8o  JUNGLE  TERROR 

reluctantly,  "except  a  lot  of  superstitious 
nonsense.  You  ain't  the  sort  to  pay  no  at 
tention  to  such  like  foolishness,  be  you?" 

"What  became  of  your  partner?" 

"More'n  I  know.  He  wandered  off  and 
never  come  back.  That  was  some  time  ago. 
Megrums,  I  guess.  His  name  was  Weisner." 

"Did  he  ever  wear  goggles?" 

Briggs  jumped  up  from  the  log  where  he 
had  been  sitting,  and  declaimed,  excitedly: 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  any  man 
with  goggles.  There  ain't  any  such  man 
up  here." 

"Well,  then,"  said  Purdy,  "what  is  up 
here?" 

Briggs  paced  about  a  bit,  and  reseated 
himself. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  it  is.  Sometimes, 
mostly  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  there 
comes — it's  a  bad  smell,  that's  what  it  is. 
Don't  be  took  surprised  if  it  comes  to 
night." 

"  Must  be  some  volcanic  vent-holes  in  the 


DEATH'S  NEIGHBOURHOOD       81 

neighbourhood,"  put  in  Tommy,  with  a 
touch  of  irony. 

"Volcanoes?  Not  this  way,  partner. 
Besides,  it  ain't  brimstun.  The  smell  is 
more  like — like  an  old  cellar." 

Tommy  laughed  outright,  but  Purdy  re 
mained  thoughtful.  He  remembered  the 
pantomime  indulged  in  by  one  of  the  refu 
gees — he  had  held  his  nose. 

"I  believe  Briggs  is  telling  the  truth," 
he  said  to  Tommy  when  the  miner  had  gone 
back  to  the  cabin;  "about  everything  ex 
cepting  the  man  with  goggles,  that  is.  Per 
haps  if  we  can  win  a  little  more  of  his  con 
fidence " 

But  Tommy,  wearied  by  the  events  of  the 
day,  had  fallen  asleep.  Purdy  left  his  sen 
tence  unfinished,  refilled  his  pipe,  and  pre 
pared  for  a  lonely  vigil.  He  thought  of  all 
that  had  happened  since  the  receipt  of  the 
cablegram:  Lara's  offer  of  a  bribe;  the  prank 
of  the  pretended  French  maid;  the  meeting 
with  the  elusive  stranger  on  the  train; 


82  JUNGLE  TERROR 

Tommy's  experiences  at  Krieg's  Casa;  the 
murdered  priest;  Tommy's  tale  of  scooped- 
out  roads  and  scorched  vegetation;  the 
bodies  of  panic-stricken  villagers  and  the 
yet  more  unaccountable  dead  men  in  over 
alls,  some  merely  bruised,  some  torn  to 
shreds;  the  snapped  tree-stems;  the  ap 
parently  uncaused  wave  across  the  bosom 
of  a  placid  lake;  the  mysteriously  slain 
llama;  the  hunchback's  fear  of  men  with 
goggles,  and  now  his  yet  more  ridiculous 
yarn.  Could  any  explanation  be  found 
which  would  bring  all  these  and  several 
other  things  together  into  one  comprehen 
sible  and  logical  whole?  Or  were  he  and 
Tommy  the  victims  of  so  many  unrelated 
caprices  of  fortune? — of  nature? — yes, 
though  he  hated  to  consider  it,  of  the 
supernatural  ? 

It  was  an  hour  for  such  thoughts.  The 
fire  had  died  down.  No  sound,  not  even  a 
companionable  snore,  came  from  either  of 
his  companions.  Purdy  must  have  dozed, 


DEATH'S  NEIGHBOURHOOD        83 

for  he  opened  his  eyes  suddenly  with  the 
confused  memory  of  a  sharp  hissing  sound 
in  his  ears. 

"What  is  it?*'  asked  Tommy,  drowsily, 
raising  himself  on  his  elbow. 

"Nothing,  I  guess.  I  only  thought  I 
heard  something." 

There  had  been  nothing  in  the  sky  but 
the  shadow  of  the  night  and  the  presences 
of  the  stars.  But  now  something  was  al 
tered.  Purdy  could  not  have  said  what  it 
was,  but  the  stars  seemed  to  grow  dim  in 
the  cloudless  atmosphere — tarnished,  like 
brilliants  breathed  upon  by  some  unearthly 
monster. 

From  far  off  in  the  forest  there  came  a 
cry,  as  of  an  animal  stung  to  madness  by 
sudden  fear  or  pain.  A  movement — it 
could  be  called  nothing  more — passed  just 
above  the  tree-tops,  leaving  behind  it  a 
faint  but  unmistakable  odour  of  mud. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
PURDY'S  WALK 

IN  THE  morning  Purdy  started  out  alone 
for  a  walk.  He  had,  he  told  Tommy, 
the  ghost  of  an  idea — perhaps  the  be 
ginning  of  the  thread  of  which  the  problem 
he  had  come  to  solve  was  woven — and  he 
wanted  to  think  it  out.  All  these  phenomena 
— traced  upon  the  ground,  in  the  water, 
in  the  heavens,  in  the  quaking  hearts  of  men 
and  women — had  one  thing  in  common: 
They  suggested  evil.  Here  ought  to  be  a 
clue. 

He  had  every  intention  of  making  his 
walk  a  short  one,  but  the  hills  were  like 
magnets,  and  the  sight  of  the  plateau, 
spreading  wider  and  wider  beneath  him 
every  time  he  turned  to  look  back,  rilled 
his  mind  with  a  sort  of  intoxication.  Being 


PURDY'S  WALK  85 

more  used  to  the  labyrinths  of  cities  than 
to  those  of  the  wild  he  paid  less  attention 
than  he  should  to  where  he  was  going.  It 
seemed  sufficient  to  note  that  he  was  always 
climbing. 

Then  he  yielded  to  the  lure  of  a  natural 
aisle,  and  turned  aside.  Here,  with  an 
easier  gradient,  he  made  such  rapid  prog 
ress  that  soon  he  found  himself  shut  in  by 
pinnacles  of  rock.  From  being  a  man 
creeping  up  a  roof  he  had  become  a  man 
wandering  in  the  cellars  of  a  Brobdignagian 
castle.  The  sense  of  expanse,  of  freedom, 
left  him.  No  longer  did  the  air  seem  super 
charged  with  ozone.  There  came  a  chok 
ing  sensation  at  the  throat.  The  cliffs 
towered  about,  higher  and  higher.  It  was 
almost  as  if  they  had  sprouted,  or  at  least 
grown  enormously,  since  he  came  among 
them.  His  neck  began  to  ache  with  the 
effort  of  looking  upward.  It  was  time  to 
go  back.  One  could  not  think  out  prob 
lems  here. 


86  JUNGLE  TERROR 

But  the  sun  had  disappeared  behind  a 
ilm  of  wintry  haze,  making  it  difficult  to 
locate  the  points  of  the  compass ;  and  as  he 
had  not  mounted  directly  from  the  plain, 
mere  going  down  hill  would  never  take  him 
to  his  starting  point.  It  was  necessary  to 
retrace  his  steps  with  every  twist  and  turn 
which  they  had  made.  But  how?  The 
aisle,  instead  of  being  a  single  cut  in  the 
rock,  proved  to  be  a  dozen  aisles,  branching 
off  into  innumerable  transepts — a  devil's 
cathedral. 

Staggering  with  fatigue,  and  a  little 
giddy,  he  chose  a  cushion  of  dry  moss, 
leaned  his  back  against  a  boulder — and 
almost  immediately  fell  asleep.  When  he 
awoke — was  it  minutes  or  hours  afterward? 
— everything  seemed  to  have  changed.  The 
scene,  as  he  remembered  it,  was  a  confusion 
of  palisades  heaped  one  upon  the  other  in  a 
terrific  riot,  and  a  great  central  peak  tower 
ing  above  the  rest  like  a  chief  amongst  a 
retinue  of  lesser  sky-lords.  Now  the  peak 


PURDY'S  WALK  87 

was  gone.  The  canopy  of  haze  had  become 
a  low,  leaden  roof  whose  weight  he  could 
all  but  feel  upon  his  shoulders.  Every  recol 
lection  of  the  way  he  had  come  had  beea 
blotted  out  by  strange  and  threatening 
dreams. 

Thoroughly  alarmed,  he  chose  the  route 
which  looked  the  least  unfamiliar — only  to 
see  its  familiarity  vanish  more  completely 
with  every  step.  Possibly  he  might  in 
coming  have  passed  that  bank  of  flowers, 
that  glowed  now  with  such  a  vivid  purple, 
on  his  right.  He  might — though  he  could 
not  understand  how — have  gone  unseeingly 
by  a  waterfall  hanging  like  a  silver  veil  from 
the  eaves  of  a  basaltic  battlement  far  over 
head.  But  he  could  never  have  encountered 
those  two  figures  of  stone,  roughly  shaped 
like  human  forms,  which  arose,  as  if  alive,  in 
his  path.  No;  he  was  beholding  things 
which  neither  his  own  nor  any  other  human 
eye  had  ever  rested  on  before. 

He  was  lost.     He  could  not  even  find  the 


88  JUNGLE  TERROR 

spot  where  he  had  stopped  to  rest.  Prog 
ress  of  any  sort  became  almost  impossible. 
He  had,  unconsciously,  been  hurrying;  and, 
strong  and  hardy  as  he  was  for  a  city  man, 
he  had  frequently  to  lean  against  some  rock 
or  tree  to  regain  his  breath.  At  long  inter 
vals — was  it  this  day,  or  the  next  ? — he  would 
point  the  muzzle  of  his  automatic  into  the 
air  and  fire,  hoping  that  some  friendly  ear 
might  hear  the  report.  The  result  was  al 
ways  startling.  Shots  would  sound  from 
every  direction — at  first  close  at  hand,  then 
at  greater  and  greater  distances,  suggesting 
a  pack  of  scattering  dogs.  Then  the  silence 
would  creep  back  and  hedge  him  about  as 
with  an  invisible  barrier,  and  it  would  be 
several  minutes  before  he  eould  realize  that 
he  had  only  been  mocked  by  the  complica 
tions  of  a  mountain  echo.  But  when  he 
reached  his  last  cartridge,  some  obscure 
hunter's  instinct  stayed  his  hand,  bidding 
him  save  this  bullet  for  a  yet  more  desperate 
and  final  need. 


PURDY'S  WALK  89 

It  grew  bitterly  cold,  and  he  thought  of  a 
new  expedient.  He  remembered  how  he 
and  Tommy  had  been  guided  by  the  smoke 
of  the  hunchback's  camp.  Before  it  grew 
too  dark  again  he  must  build  a  fire.  Per 
haps  he  had  travelled  in  circles  and  not 
wandered  so  far,  after  all.  Tommy  and 
Briggs  might  see  it.  But  though  he  col 
lected  a  great  heap  of  dry  brush  and  piled 
green  stuff  on  top  of  the  blaze,  night  fell 
without  a  sign  of  succor.  In  vain  he  strained 
his  ears.  The  hoped-for  sound  of  an  answer 
ing  gun  did  not  come. 

Again  he  fell  asleep.  Ages  seemed  to 
pass  in  blackness  and  silence.  Then  there 
came  noise  and  confusion.  He  awoke  with 
a  cry.  A  sharp,  hot  pain  stung  his  cheek. 
Overhead,  not  more  than  twenty  feet  from 
his  face,  was  a  monster,  clothed  in  a  yellow 
flame,  that  writhed  and  twisted,  and  com 
plained  with  a  voice  like  that  of  the  wind 
or  a  worried  beast.  The  note  of  the  slain 
priest  had  spoken  of  flames.  But  here  was 


90  JUNGLE  TERROR 

not  the  looked-for  solution  of  the  mystery. 
His  own  fire  had  merely  crawled  up  a 
splintered  pine  and  was  spreading  among 
the  dead  branches.  Purdy  got  from  be 
neath  barely  in  time  to  escape  an  avalanche 
of  burning  wood.  But  rest  had  put  new 
strength  into  his  muscles.  He  resumed  his 
way. 

Though  not  yet  morning,  it  was  light. 
The  forest  appeared  to  be  afire  all  around 
him.  An  ever-growing  roar  was  in  his 
ears.  It  seemed  incredible  that  the  de 
structive  element  should  have  made  such 
progress.  Stranger  still,  the  roaring  in 
creased  as  he  went.  Could  it  be  fire  which 
made  that  loud  but  sweet  and  limpid 
music  ? 

Something  cold  suddenly  embraced  his 
feet  and  ankles.  He  was  in  the  midst  of  a 
mountain  torrent.  This,  not  the  flames, 
was  what  made  the  music.  He  discovered 
that  he  was  very  thirsty,  and  let  himself  sink 
to  his  knees,  burying  his  face  in  the  delicious 


PURDY'S  WALK  91 

eddies  and  nearly  losing  his  balance  and 
drowning.  When  he  reached  the  other 
bank,  he  determined  to  stay  there.  Much 
might  happen  before  he  starved  to  death, 
and  he  need  not  again  run  the  risk  of  thirst. 
Yet  his  matches  were  damp,  and  the  wetting 
had  rendered  him  doubly  cold.  It  seemed  a 
pity  to  freeze  so  near  to  a  raging  holocaust. 
Only  a  single  brand  was  needed. 

He  got  back  to  the  fire  without  difficulty. 
Though  much  less  extensive  than  he  had 
supposed,  it  shone  like  a  red  eye  through 
the  forest.  He  even  found  the  very  tree 
beneath  which  he  had  couched.  But  he 
did  not  secure  a  blazing  branch;  he  stared 
in  front  of  him  like  a  man  in  a  trance. 
Sticking  into  the  tree-trunk  not  far  from 
where  his  head  had  been  was  a  long  and 
slender  knife. 

He  waited  till  ghostly  forms  on  high  told 
of  sunlight  on  the  peaks,  and  resumed  his 
wanderings,  giddy  from  lack  of  food  but 
finding  plenty  of  water.  The  torrent  was 


92  JUNGLE  TERROR 

the  crookedest  stream  imaginable.  He 
came  across  it  every  little  while,  forded  it 
again  and  again,  and  in  the  end  forgot  which 
side  he  was  on.  Or  perhaps  there  were  a 
dozen  different  torrents.  It  did  not  matter. 
That  night  he  buried  himself  under  a  heap 
of  pine  needles.  There  was  some  creature 
abroad  on  his  trail — some  creature  which 
was  attracted  by  fire  and  could  hurl  knives 
into  the  bole  of  a  tree.  That  was  the 
thought  which  pursued  him.  Later — he  did 
not  know  how  much  later — he  aroused 
himself  and  went  on  again,  moved  by  that 
stubborn  sense  of  duty  which  is  a  part  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  blood.  He  had  ceased  to  hope. 
Tommy  would  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  worst  had  happened.  He  might  even 
now  be  gone,  and  in  any  case  could  never 
arrive  in  time  to  be  of  any  use.  There  were 
no  provisions.  The  keen  air  sapped  vitality 
at  its  very  root.  Life  had  become  a  night 
mare. 

Often  Purdy  cnme  to  precipices,  and  some- 


PURDY'S  WALK  93 

times  imagined  himself  upon  dizzy  brinks 
which  did  not  in  fact  exist.  Images  whirled 
continually  before  his  vision — sometimes 
of  terror,  sometimes  the  soft,  seductive 
images  of  approaching  delirium.  Time  had 
gone  completely  out  of  the  universe. 

Once,  after  he  had  passed  over  a  region 
of  dry  rocks,  the  world  became  suddenly 
white  and  dazzling.  Something  beneath 
his  feet  gave  like  feathers  and  clung  like 
glue.  It  was  snow.  He  was  tempted  to 
fill  himself  with  this  treacherous  substitute 
for  food  and  drink;  and  to  avoid  yielding 
he  let  himself  drift  toward  the  lower  levels, 
walking  automatically  upon  legs  that  had 
forgotten  the  meaning  of  weariness. 

Another  time  he  fell;  and  instead  of 
trying  to  get  up  again,  drew  his  weapon, 
pressing  the  muzzle  eagerly  against  his 
temple.  Was  not  this  moment  as  good  as 
another  for  that  last,  carefully  treasured 
bullet?  Yet  he  did  not  pull  the  trigger. 
Suicide,  when  brought  so  near,  revealed  it- 


94  JUNGLE  TERROR 

self  as  a  form  of  surrender.  He  would  at 
least  wait.  Perhaps,  if  he  lived  long  enough, 
he  would  learn — what  he  had  come  to  learn. 

If  only  he  could  keep  his  mind  clear,  and 
distinguish  realities  from  dreams.  Not  for 
hours  had  he  been  alone.  At  one  time  it 
would  be  Tommy  who  walked  beside  him; 
at  another,  Briggs;  a  man  in  goggles;  or 
Lara's  pretended  nursery  maid.  Oftenest 
it  was  the  maid.  He  could  not  forget  her, 
and  sometimes  it  seemed  as  if  she  were  the 
heart  of  the  whole  mystery. 

"It  is  strange  that  I  don't  suffer  more," 
he  kept  saying  aloud  in  his  more  lucid  inter 
vals.  "Starvation  is  not  as  horrible  as  the 
books  say  it  is." 

Afterward  he  would  return  to  imaginary 
conversations  with  the  shadows  about  him, 
dimly  conscious  that  there  was  something 
real  beneath  his  fancies.  Often  now  he 
fell.  He  became  bruised,  bleeding — a  thing 
dreadful  to  see.  The  time  came  when  the 
next  collapse  promised  to  be  the  last.  He 


PURDY'S  WALK  95 

stumbled  forward  in  a  heap  and  lay  stiH. 
It  was  about  sunset  in  the  world  below. 
Mechanically  he  covered  himself  with  leaves 
and  broken  branches.  He  would  dream  no 
more.  Here  would  be  his  grave. 

Yet  he  awoke — and  was  at  once  con 
vinced  that  the  final  shreds  of  his  reason 
were  gone.  Beside  him  he  saw  a  basket 
—food — drink.  It  required  every  atom  of 
his  will  to  limit  himself  to  a  drop  and  a 
morsel.  The  meat,  the  liquor — they  were 
substantial.  His  mind  cleared.  Leading- 
from  the  basket  was  a  thread,  seemingly 
without  end.  Either  he  was  mad  indeed, 
or  it  had  been  put  there  to  tempt  him  on. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE    CATACLYSM 

IN  THE  old  fable  it  was  a  thread  (or,  as 
some   say,  a  hair  from  the  head  of 
Ariadne)  which  led  Theseus  from  the 
labyrinth  after  he  had  slain  the  Minotaur. 
In  Purdy's  case,  his  enemy  being  still  alive, 
the  trail  was  much  more  likely  to  be  an 
invitation  to  destruction  than  an  escape. 
But  he  was  far  too  desperate  now  even  to 
hesitate,  and  soon  found  himself  standing 
at  the  thread's  farther  end. 

Before  him  was  a  cliff,  about  two  hundred 
feet  high,  in  the  face  of  which  was  a  narrow, 
almost  perpendicular,  fissure.  The  rough 
sides  of  this  fissure  afforded  a  series  of  foot 
holds,  a  sort  of  natural  ladder;  but  he  had 
not  climbed  it  very  far  before  he  discovered 
that  wherever  a  rock-knob  was  lacking  its 

96 


THE  CATACLYSM  97 

place  had  been  supplied  by  an  iron  peg  skil 
fully  set  in  an  artificially  drilled  hole.  Com 
mon  prudence  called  for  a  halt;  but  he  was 
beyond  prudence. 

The  top  of  the  cliff  revealed  a  bit  of  slop 
ing  tableland,  or  meadow,  several  acres  in 
extent  and  covered  with  a  heavy  growth 
of  tufted  grass.  Across  the  meadow  lay  a 
well-worn  path,  ending  at  a  second  cliff 
very  much  like  the  first.  The  grass  was 
everywhere  green  and  luxuriant  save  along 
the  borders  of  the  path,  where  it  was  seared 
and  brown,  as  if  from  blight.  The  path 
terminated  abruptly  at  the  entrance  to  a 
cave. 

This  was  so  obviously  the  lion's  mouth 
that  even  Purdy,  overwrought  as  he  was, 
paused  for  a  moment.  But  all  paths  ema 
nate  a  certain  fascination,  and  this  one  fairly 
beckoned. 

The  cave  proved  to  be  a  mere  tunnel, 
penetrating  the  mountain  for  a  few  yards 
and  ending  in — emptiness.  Purdy  stopped. 


98  JUNGLE  TERROR 

He  seemed  to  be  looking  into  a  cavern  with 
out  floor,  ceiling,  or  sides.  Only  shadows 
interrupted  the  gaze  above,  beneath,  or  be 
yond — shadows  diluted  by  a  pale  light  which 
streamed  from  some  undefined  source,  as 
though  the  rock-drip  were  phosphorescent. 

Creeping  on  his  hands  and  knees,  he  came 
to  the  edge  of  the  abyss — and  suddenly  drew 
his  breath  in  sharply  through  h  s  teeth  with 
a  hiss  that  echoed  and  reechoed  as  if  all  the 
inner  spaces  of  the  earth  were  alive  with 
snakes.  What  he  had  seen  was  his  own  face 
looking  up  at  him.  The  abyss  was  no  abyss, 
but  a  mirror,  an  expanse  of  darkly  glittering 
liquid  with  a  surface  as  smooth  as  quick 
silver.  As  he  gazed,  fascinated,  he  no 
ticed  that  the  mirror's  depths  were  faintly 
streaked  with  green,  hair-like  whisps.  The 
substance  was  not  quite  homogeneous.  And 
in  the  air  he  breathed  there  was  a  slightly 
fetid  odour — suggestive  of  slime. 

Purdy  felt  the  need  of  a  smoke.  It  had 
been  days  now  since  he  had  been  able  to 


THE  CATACLYSM  99 

get  a  light  from  his  water-soaked  matches, 
and  there  was  something  extremely  dis 
agreeable  in  the  fumes  from  the  pool.  A 
puff  or  two  of  tobacco  was  what  he  wanted 
before  proceeding  farther.  It  might  rid 
his  lungs  of  that  painful  weight  which  was 
beginning  to  distress  them,  and  relieve  the 
dizziness  and  the  heaviness  of  the  eyelids 
which  went  with  it. 

Smoke  ?  Why  not  ?  There,  as  if  created 
by  his  thought,  lay  a  package  of  cigarettes 
and  a  boxof  matches  almost  beneath  his  hand. 

Scarcely  knowing  what  he  did,  he  struck 
a  match.  Almost  immediately  the  silence 
of  the  cave  was  shaken  by  a  moan  of  terror. 
Something — he  took  it  for  an  animal  at 
first — was  coming  toward  him  along  the 
edge  of  the  pool.  It  whimpered  and  stum 
bled  as  it  came,  and  just  as  he  completed 
the  lighting  of  his  cigarette,  revealed  itself 
as  a  man — a  man  of  enormous  stature,  and 
fat  for  his  height,  wearing  a  sort  of  mask 
with  goggles.  He  was  trying  to  make  for 


ioo  JUNGLE  TERROR ' 

the  entrance.  Purdy  got  to  his  feet  and 
put  himself  in  the  way. 

"Back,  you  fool,  back!"  cried  the  man, 
in  a  thick,  guttural  voice,  and  drawing  a 
revolver. 

Purdy  waited  with  the  supreme  indiffer 
ence  of  semi-stupor,  but  the  bullet  did  not 


come. 

iM 


Trying  to  bluff  me,  are  you?"  he  mut 
tered.  "Come  to  think  of  it,  I  have  a 
shot  yet  left  myself." 

Had  he  been  in  his  right  senses,  certainly 
he  would  not  have  touched  a  weapon  now. 
He  was  completely  covered,  and  at  that 
range  the  other  could  hardly  miss.  As  it 
was,  he  drew  with  great  deliberation  and 
aimed  at  his  enemy's  head. 

"Nein!  Nein!  Don't  shoot  here,  for 
the  lof  of  Gott !"  The  man  in  goggles 
shoved  his  mask  aside,  dropped  his  revolver, 
and  fell  to  his  knees.  His  attitude,  with  his 
hands  clasped  together,  suggested  not  only 
surrender  but  prayer. 


THE  CATACLYSM  101 

In  disgust,  and  obeying  one  of  the  crazy 
impulses  which  were  in  possession  of  his 
brain,  Purdy  tossed  his  own  weapon  aside. 

"What's  the  matter,  old  Specs?  Are 
you  sick?" 

"  Jay  sick.  You  schmoke!  Give  it  very 
carefully,  to  me,  or  we  die/' 

For  some  reason  or  other  he  was  actually 
afraid  of  the  cigarette. 

"You  brought  me  here,  with  your  damned 
thread,"  laughed  Purdy,  drawing  on  his 
luckily  discovered  talisman  and  removing  it 
from  his  lips  with  a  flourish.  "Wanted  me 
to  die  alone,  only  I  arrived  too  soon  for 
your  get-away.  Is  that  it?" 

"Give  me  that  schmoke  und  we  both  live. 
I  give  you  back  your  life." 

He  crept  close  as  he  spoke  and  tried  to 
take  the  cigarette  in  his  hand.  Purdy  held 
it  out  of  his  reach — and  felt  himself  gently 
lifted  and  carried  from  the  cave.  He  was 
as  helpless  as  a  baby. 

But  the  first  breath  of  outside  air  revived 


io2  JUNGLE  TERROR 

him  somewhat,  and  he  no  sooner  felt  the 
ground  again  beneath  his  feet  than  he  caught 
his  captor  by  the  arm.  A  terrific  struggle 
ensued,  the  stranger's  one  object  appearing 
to  be  escape,  while  Purdy  held  him  back 
with  all  the  desperate  energy  of  incipient 
madness.  In  spite  of  himself  he  was  slowly 
dragged  along.  In  vain  he  tried  to  catch 
the  tufted  grass  between  his  feet.  The 
grass  was  torn  out  by  the  roots.  Still  in 
anely  clutching  the  cigarette,  he  lost  ground 
continually.  The  cave-mouth  receded.  He 
could  not  fight  the  slope.  And  he  began  to 
realize  that  away  from  the  cave  meant 
toward  the  cliff. 

As  a  last  resort  he  relaxed  his  efforts, 
feigning  exhaustion,  then  put  every  atom 
of  his  force  into  a  single,  skilful  lunge,  and 
managed  to  get  his  gigantic  but  clumsy  an 
tagonist  squarely  to  the  ground.  But  the 
cigarette,  too,  had  fallen — upon  the  border 
of  dead  grass  beside  the  path. 

A  spot  of  flame,  almost  invisible  in  the 


THE  CATACLYSM  103 

bright  sunshine,  spread  rapidly  up  the 
slope.  It  was  remarkable  how  the  grass 
burned.  Watching  it  with  an  almost  hyp 
notized  interest,  Purdy  loosened  his  hold. 

With  a  frenzied  gasp  the  goggled  man 
was  up  and  away. 

"  Retten  Sif  Sich  !     Spring  jurs  leben  !" 

The  words  shot  over  his  shoulder  less  like 
a  friendly  warning  than  like  the  involuntary 
exclamation  of  one  who  sees  a  fellow  being 
in  imminent  peril  and  speaks  without  stop 
ping  to  think.  • 

Purdy  yielded  to  the  suggestion,  and  ran 
frantically  for  several  yards.  Then  he  re 
flected.  Might  not  this  be  a  ruse?  From 
what  should  he  save  himself?  Why  should 
he  run  for  his  life?  There  are  many  safer 
pastimes  than  rushing  headlong  down  an 
incline  toward  the  edge  of  a  precipice.  The 
edge,  in  fact,  was  nearer  than  he  thought, 
and  he  had  to  fling  himself  flat  on  his  face  to 
avoid  being  swept  into  space  by  his  own 
momentum. 


JUNGLE  TERROR 

Nothing  in  a  lifetime  of  adventure  had 
ever  affected  him  with  such  a  sense  of  help 
lessness,  such  horror,  as  being  the  puppet  of 
the  unseen,  of  the  inexplicable,  as  what  im 
mediately  followed.  Prompted  by  instinct, 
he  had  looked  back  toward  the  cave — and 
now  saw  the  whole  mountain  side  gradually 
lift  itself  into  the  air  and  disappear.  The 
movement  must  have  been  of  awful  swift 
ness,  but  in  comparison  with  his  racing 
thoughts  it  seemed  slow.  Never  for  an  in 
stant  did  he  connect  it  with  any  idea  of  an 
explosion. 

Next  came  the  turning  topsy-turvy  of 
natural  law.  He  felt  himself  shooting  out 
over  the  gulf.  But  he  did  not  fall ;  he  rose, 
plunging  into  the  depths  of  something  in 
visible  and  soft,  which  hardened  gradually 
into  a  great  cushion,  against  which  another 
cushion  at  his  back  urged  him  with  ever- 
increasing  force.  Every  atom  of  breath 
went  from  his  lungs.  He  seemed  about  to 
be  crushed.  Then  he  slipped  to  the  earth, 


THE  CATACLYSM  105 

not  like  a  falling  body,  but  gently,  like  a 
drop  of  water  slipping  down  a  window-pane. 
The  descent  was  of  no  great  distance.  He 
had  been  blown  entirely  across  a  chasm  to  a 
snow-crowned  slope  on  the  other  side. 

At  the  same  time  there  came  a  sound 
which  acted  upon  every  tissue  of  his  body; 
a  sound  which  he  could,  so  to  speak,  hear 
in  his  very  marrow.  His  bones  shook  with 
the  mighty  vibration  until  it  seemed  as  if 
their  sockets  must  be  pulverized.  After 
this  there  succeeded  a  rain  of  boulders  and 
smaller  stones,  promising  every  instant  a 
speedy  death.  But  at  last  the  ungodly 
downpour  ceased,  and  all  that  remained  of 
the  cataclysm  was  a  thunderous  peal  which 
flung  itself  from  peak  to  peak  and  died 
away  finally  in  a  grand  diapason  organ  note 
among  the  farther  hills. 

But  Purdy  did  not  hear  the  end  of  this 
appalling  symphony.  One  of  the  last  and 
smallest  stones,  as  it  ricochetted  after  its 
descent,  had  struck  him  on  the  head. 


CHAPTER  X 

NEW    PUZZLES 

WHEN  he  came  to  his  senses  his  first 
impression  was   of   darkness.     It 
must  be  night,  he  thought.     And 
yet  that  impenetrable  pall  overhead — a  back 
ground  of  intense  black  faintly  streaked  with 
gray — certainly  was   not   the   sky.     There 
was  also  a  closeness  in  the  air  which  bewil 
dered  him.     The  last  he  remembered  he  had 
been  in  some  catastrophe,  out  of  doors .    And 
now  he  was  in  some  stuffy,  shut-up  place. 

Slowly  he  pieced  his  scattered  memory 
together.  There  had  been  an  explosion,  and 
evidently  he  had  been  stunned.  He  didn't 
seem  to  have  been  hurt,  but  for  a  moment 
he  was  afraid  to  move  lest  he  should  find 
himself  buried  alive — caught  in  some  crevice 
beneath  a  pile  of  splintered  rock. 

106 


NEW  PUZZLES  107 

The  more  he  stared  into  the  blackness 
above  him,  however,  the  less  total  it  became. 
A  light  was  stealing  in  from  somewhere; 
and  as  it  gradually  increased,  the  details  of 
his  surroundings  revealed  themselves.  He 
was  lying  in  a  rough  bunk.  The  pall  of 
blackness  was  a  roof;  the  gray  streaks 
beams. 

Perhaps  he  was  back  at  Briggs's  place. 
But  no,  as  he  turned  his  head  he  caught  sight 
of  an  enormous  room,  as  big  as  the  best  cafe 
in  Lara's  capital.  It  was  fitted  up  as  a 
machine-shop,  with  belts,  pulleys,  shafting. 
The  sight  was  so  astonishing  that  he  closed 
his  eyes  again,  thinking  it  must  be  an  illu 
sion.  But  he  was  not  asleep,  and  his  mind 
was  perfectly  clear.  Had  he  been  ill,  and 
carried  back  to  civilization  ?  But  they  don't 
put  sick  men  into  bunks  fastened  to  the  walls 
of  machine-shops.  Nor  could  this  be  a 
stamp  mill  in  some  neighbouring  mining 
camp.  He  had  never  heard  of  any  such 
camp,  and  stamp  mills  do  not  have  their 


io8  JUNGLE  TERROR 

floors  cluttered  up  with  spool-like  objects, 
twice  the  size  of  flour  barrels,  nor  miles  and 
miles  of  small,  flexible,  yellowish-gray  rope 
festooned  from  the  rafters. 

He  recalled  the  man  with  goggles,  and 
moved  cautiously,  expecting  every  instant 
to  feel  the  clutch  of  fetters.  But  his  limbs 
were  free;  he  might  get  up  if  he  chose.  But 
what  if  it  was  the  man  with  goggles  who  had 
brought  him  there?  In  that  case,  he  was 
free  to  rise  because  the  man  in  goggles 
wanted  him  to  rise.  All  things  considered, 
it  might  be  just  as  well  to  lie  still. 

Curiosity,  however,  finally  got  the  better 
of  this  resolution,  and  with  as  little  noise  as 
possible  he  crept  out  of  the  bunk.  He  was 
fully  dressed,  he  found,  save  for  his  boots, 
which  were  waiting  for  him.  The  bright 
morning  sunshine,  now  streaming  in  through 
a  row  of  windows,  cast  the  long  shadows  of 
the  boot-tops  half  way  across  the  floor. 
He  decided  to  do  his  first  exploring  in  his 
stockinged  feet,  but  his  eyes  instinctively 


NEW  PUZZLES  109 

followed  the  shadows.  There,  where  the 
shadows  ended,  about  an  open  fireplace, 
were  some  chairs,  a  table,  a  bookcase,  and  a 
flat-topped  desk.  The  table  showed  a  half- 
opened  drawer,  and  bending  over  it,  with 
his  back  turned,  stood  a  human  figure. 

Purdy,  moving  as  stealthily  as  a  cat,  se 
cured  a  stout  iron  bar  from  an  extinct  forge, 
shaped  like  the  foundation  of  a  chimney, 
that  rose  in  his  way,  and  crept  forward. 
A  scrap  grated  under  his  foot.  The  figure 
turned  its  head. 

"What's  the  matter  now?" 

The  bar  clattered  to  the  cement  floor. 

"Well,  Tommy,  you  are  always  sur 
prising  me!  I'm  mighty  glad  it's  you. 
Was  it  you  who  brought  me  to  this  place?" 

"Yes;  we  heard  an  explosion — something 
awful,  and  went  toward  the  sound.  Briggs 
is  somewhere  about." 

"Then  all  I've  got  to  say  is  that  Briggs, 
as  well  as  you,  is  a  mighty  brave  man." 
Purdy  seated  himself  in  a  chair  before  the 


no  JUNGLE  TERROR 

desk  in  that  incongruously  domestic  corner 
before  the  fireplace.  It  was  beginning  to 
be  borne  in  upon  him  that  Tommy  was 
acting  strangely. 

"Where  in  heaven's  name  are  we?*'  he 
went  on.  "What  is  this  place?" 

"We  are  up  in  the  mountains  still,  but  I 
don't  know  what  it  is.  Only  got  here  last 
night." 

Tommy's  reluctance  to  talk  was  now  ob 
vious.  He  seemed  to  be  thinking  of  some 
thing  quite  apart  from  his  words.  Purdy 
turned  to  the  desk  before  him.  His  glance 
fell  aimlessly  upon  a  thumb-worn  volume 
which  lay  open  at  a  passage  bearing  all  the 
marks  of  frequent  perusal.  Slowly  and  at 
first  almost  automatically  he  translated 
from  the  foreign  language  in  which  it  was 
printed : 

"The  body  has  a  hand  of  flesh.  Who 
shall  give  a  hand  to  the  will  ?  Give  me  but 
the  power  which  lies  in  the  atoms  of  the 
dust,  and  I  will  write  my  name  upon  the 


NEW  PUZZLES  in 

world  in  letters  of  steel  and  flame.  Not 
the  force  to  do  this  or  that,  but  Force 
Itself." 

On  the  margin  was  written  in  a  large,  ir 
regular  hand : 

"What  a  fool  the  Kaiser  was — he  thought 
he  had  it." 

And  then,  beneath: 

"It  is  found — Force,  itself!  The  secret 
of  the  atoms  of  the  dust  is  mine.  Already 
men  are  afraid.  Their  terror  dangerous 
them  makes.  The  butcher  while  he  only 
whets  his  knife  was  almost  under  the  feet 
of  the  sheep.  Abroad  it  is  over,  they  write 
me.  One  surrenders.  Bah!  Soon,  above 
the  mob,  above  presidents  and  kings,  I, 
even  I,  Hans  Krieg " 

The  writing  broke  off. 

"Krieg,  eh?  Sounds  like  a  crazy  man," 
said  Purdy,  aloud.  "I  don't  know,  though. 
Supposing  the  hand  of  the  will  was  found  ? 
Only  a  crazy  man 

"Say,  Tommy!    What  do  you  think  of 


ii2  JUNGLE  TERROR 

this?  Here's  somebody  who's  trying  to 
start  up  the  Big  Unpleasantness  again.  It's 
your  friend,  Krieg,  too,  or  somebody  else 
of  the  same  name.  He  claims  to  have  dis 
covered  a  way  of  doing — not  anything  in 
particular,  but  his  own  sweet  will  in  general. 
He-  -" 

But  Tommy  wasn't  listening.  He  was 
swaying  unsteadily  on  his  feet,  grinning 
fatuously;  and  while  Purdy  stared,  slipped 
suddenly  to  the  floor  and  began  to  babble 
almost  incoherently. 

"It  was  the  spooky  things  that  got  me," 
he  said.  "A  machine-shop  is  all  right.  I 
can  stand  that.  But  hair — ugh!  I  could 
n't  bear  to  think  about  how  it  must  have 
come  here — not  in  cold  blood.  Honest,  I 
couldn't." 

A  bottle  stood  half  empty  on  the  table. 
Purdy  snorted  in  disgust. 

"Where'd  you  find  it?  Confound  you, 
you're  drunk  again." 

"Shouldn't  wonder.     But  thash  better'n 


NEW  PUZZLES  113 

going  off  my  trolley.     3S  where  I  was  going, 


too." 


The  voice  trailed  off  into  silence.  With 
surprising  suddenness  Tommy  was  asleep. 

Purdy  knelt  down  and  lifted  one  of  the 
heavy  eyelids  with  a  finger.  The  pupil 
was  perceptibly  shrunken.  No,  the 
wretched  journalist  was  not  drunk,  but 
drugged. 

"  Morphia !"  muttered  Purdy.  "That 
bottle — of  course.  The  man  who  wrote  in 
that  book  would  naturally  set  out  poisoned 
liquor/' 

But  what  had  Tommy  learned?  What 
had  he  meant  about  hair?  Certainly  he 
had  used  the  word — and  there  was  a  paper- 
wrapped  parcel  lying  in  the  open  drawer. 
Purdy  shivered  as  he  examined  it,  the  vision 
of  some  nameless  outrage  creeping  across  his 
thoughts,  for  that  parcel  contained  a  tress 
of  human  hair  cut  off  with  prodigal  liberal 
ity — hair  rather  straight,  long,  and  bluish 
black,  like  jet. 


ii4  JUNGLE  TERROR 

And  yet  there  was  no  need  to  imagine 
anything  gruesome.  It  might  be  a  solemn 
love-token  cut  from  the  head  of  the  dead. 
Some  women,  even  while  living,  might  spare 
such  a  lock  as  that  and  look  not  a  whit  the 
worse.  But  the  latter  idea,  at  least,  brought 
Purdy  no  satisfaction.  The  whole  place 
had  become  utterly  repugnant  to  him — a 
devil's  workshop.  He  did  not  want  to 
think  of  any  woman  being  connected  with  it. 
Especially  did  a  pump-like  contrivance 
near  the  door,  exhaling  a  faint  odour — not  of 
slime,  this  time,  but  of  ammonia — excite  his 
ire.  Several  frost-covered  pipes  extending 
from  it  suggested  the  ice-making  plant  in  an 
up-to-date  brewery.  An  evil  brew  it  was 
which  was  being  made  here,  there  could  be 
no  doubt  about  that.  No  place  for  senti 
mental  keepsakes  and  tresses  of  hair! 

A  squeaking  sound  arrested  his  attention. 
There  was  something  alive  in  the  midst  of 
these  mechanical  contrivances.  A  short 
search  revealed  a  wire  hutch  and  several 


NEW  PUZZLES  115 

hungry  little  guinea  pigs.  He  quieted  them 
with  a  handful  of  food  from  a  near-by  bas 
ket.  But  what  were  they  here  for  ?  Vivi 
section?  Some  yet  more  accursed  experi 
ment?  Yet  somehow  it  did  not  matter. 
He  was  too  sated  with  horrors  to  feel.  The 
innocent  little  creatures  in  their  snowy  coats 
rather  inclined  him  to  smile.  After  all,  na 
ture's  handiwork  was  wholesome  and  beau 
tiful.  He  would  try  to  forget  man's. 

Tommy  was  sleeping  heavily,  but  re 
quired  no  particular  attention.  He  would 
rest  as  comfortably  before  the  fireplace, 
where  there  was  a  cheerfully  blazing  log, 
as  he  would  anywhere  else.  Purdy  went 
to  the  door  he  had  already  noticed,  and 
tried  it.  He  found  it  locked.  But  the 
door  itself  proved  to  be  cut  in  an  immense 
sliding  panel,  so  delicately  hung  on  rollers 
that  it  opened  a  little  with  the  first  touch. 

He  stepped  out.  The  machine-shop 
seemed  more  absurdly  impossible  than 
ever.  It  was  sheathed  with  corrugated  iron. 


ii6  JUNGLE  TERROR 

A  tall  chimney  rose  at  one  corner.  On  the 
other  side  of  a  large  inclosed  area  were  sev 
eral  workmen's  cottages.  None  of  them 
showed  any  signs  of  immediate  occupancy. 
But  this  might  have  been  in  the  suburbs  of 
Paterson,  New  Jersey,  or  of  Essen,  for  that 
matter.  And  yet,  all  around,  in  their  un 
sullied  majesty,  rose  that  now-familiar 
wilderness  of  virgin  peaks  crowned  with 
eternal  snow. 

But  Purdy  did  not  look  long  at  the  moun 
tains.  A  gate  clicked.  Someone  was  enter 
ing  the  inclosure.  Briggs,  of  course.  That 
hunched  figure  with  the  bandaged  arm  and 
eager  face  was  unmistakable.  And  with 
him  there  came — no  mere  lock  of  hair,  this, 
but  a  woman. 


CHAPTER  XI 

INTERRUPTED   CONFIDENCE 

THIS  is — Mamzelle  Marie,  she  calls 
herself,"     said     Briggs,     advancing 
shamefacedly.   "  I  found  her  dismiss- 
in'  her  guides.     She  would  come  on,  without 
a  nag  or  anything,  I  had  to  bring  her." 

He  put  down  the  bulging  kit-bag  he  was 
carrying,  and  mopped  his  forehead.  The 
woman,  who  was  dressed  in  riding  boots, 
khaki-coloured  breeches,  and  an  army  offi 
cer's  tunic,  smiled  ravishingly  upon  him. 
Then  she  dropped  a  curtsey  in  Purdy's 
direction,  quite  in  the  grande  dame  manner. 
Marie  would  have  been  extraordinary 
anywhere.  Though  too  generously  framed 
to  be  termed  exactly  petite,  she  was  unutter 
ably  feminine.  A  woman's  hopes,  fears, 
loves,  and  hates  glowed  mysteriously  in  the 

"7 


n8  JUNGLE  TERROR 

dark  depths  of  her  wide  and  luminous  eyes. 
Her  attire,  masculine  as  it  was,  failed  to 
detract  from  her  quality,  and  not  even  the 
boots  were  able  to  hide  the  instinctive  grace 
of  her  movements. 

But  what  was  most  surprising  was  the 
marble-like  whiteness  of  her  skin.  With 
those  eyes;  with  that  hair,  almost  blue  in 
the  intensity  of  its  blackness,  her  skin 
should  have  been  olive.  No  doubt  there 
had  been  some  odd  crossing  of  currents  in 
her  ancestry,  something  Andalusian,  say, 
mixed  with  a  strain  from  one  of  the  Balkan 
provinces,  something  almost  Oriental,  per 
haps  just  a  trifle  Jewish.  But  her  pallor 
an  unnatural  quality.  Purdy  had  seen  the 
like  in  the  victims  of  barbarous  atrocities, 
bled  white  almost  to  the  point  of  death. 
Even  when  a  flush  stole  momentarily  across 
her  face  it  was  as  if  the  red  tide  rose  with 
difficulty,  and  not  quite  to  its  original 
height. 

Any  woman  would  have  astonished  him. 


INTERRUPTED  CONFIDENCE    119 

This  one  added  the  final  touch  to  the  un 
believable,  and  he  half  expected  to  see  the 
whole  scene  vanish  from  before  his  eyes. 
For  it  was  undoubtedly  she  who  had  locked 
him  in  the  Presidente's  vacant  guard  room. 

"Ziss  iss  charming,  to  meet  up  here — a 
gentleman!"  she  exclaimed,  in  mincing  ac 
cents.  And  then,  coming  closer  and  speak 
ing  without  moving  her  lips : 

"Act  as  if  you  didn't  recognize  me,  don't 
show  surprise  at  anything,  and  watch  for  a 
chance  to  speak  to  me  alone." 

"Who  are  you,  anyway?"  Purdy  was 
thrilled  in  spite  of  himself  by  the  new  and 
unexpected  depths  of  those  barely  audible 
tones. 

"A  friend — if  you'll  try  not  to  be  de 
ceived  by  appearances.  But  be  careful. 
Nobody  must  see  that  we  have  met  before." 

"There  is  nobody  here  to  see  it  excepting 
Briggs,  and  another  gentleman  whose  ac 
quaintance,  I  believe,  you  have  already 
made." 


i2o  JUNGLE  TERROR 

They  had  reached  the  entrance  of  the 
machine-shop,  and  his  tone  was  slightly 
ironical.  He  had  suddenly  remembered  a 
murder  case  on  Park  Row  which  he  had 
covered  during  his  reporter  days.  Yes,  it 
was  certainly  this  same  girl  who  had  ap 
peared  there  as  the  representative  of  some 
European  welfare  society  or  other.  She 
might  easily  have  been  a  spy,  even  then. 
And  he  had  not  forgotten  their  last  meeting 
nor  what  had  happened  as  the  result  of  his 
taking  her  at  her  word  on  that  occasion. 
It  made  him  angry  every  time  he  thought 
of  it.  And  here  she  was  trying  to  be  gra 
cious,  asking  him  not  to  judge  by  appear 
ances.  The  very  devil  must  have  sent 
her. 

"Yes,  yes,"  she  was  saying;  "it  is  that 
other  one — but  wait." 

They  entered.  Tommy  was  sitting  up, 
rubbing  his  eyes.  At  sight  of  Marie,  he 
started,  staring  into  her  face  as  if  petrified. 

"Where— where     is     Mr.  Krieg?"     the 


INTERRUPTED  CONFIDENCE    121 

woman  barely  whispered,  after  a  swift  glance 
around. 

"Oh!  that  gentleman!  He  is  also  an  ac 
quaintance?"  asked  Purdy.  "We  seem  to 
have  lost  track  of  him  for  the  mbment." 

"Gone?  You  have  let  him  go  ?  And  he 
doesn't  know  that  I  am  here.  My  God!" 

She  leaned  back  against  the  wall.  A 
flush  which  had  just  begun  to  mantle  her 
cheeks  drained  quickly  away,  leaving  them 
as  white  as  chalk,  while  her  eyes  dilated  with 
pure  fright.  There  could  be  no  mistake 
whatever  about  the  emotion.  It  was  fear. 

"Quick!"  she  went  on.  "We  must  get 
away — if  there  is  yet  time.  When  did  he 

go?" 

"That  means  you  are  anxious  to  get  us 
away  from  this  place;  why?"  Purdy  de 
manded,  though  there  was  no  longer  the 
same  suspicion  in  his  manner. 

"  Because  we  are  all  in  very  great  danger 
while  we  stay." 

"You  think  he  might  come  and  find  us?" 


122  JUNGLE  TERROR 

"Then,  truly,  he  does  not  know  you  are 
here?" 

Her  relief  seemed  genuine,  but  Purdy  felt 
his  doubts  returning.  His  profession  had 
taught  him  that  eternal  distrust  is  very 
often  the  price  of  liberty,  and  even  of  life 
itself.  Distrust  did  not  come  naturally. 
Especially  was  it  hard  for  him  to  believe 
that  a  young  and  beautiful  woman,  under  a 
cloak  of  marvellous  acting,  had  deliberately 
tried  to  stampede  him  into  an  ambush; 
and  seeing  that  he  didn't  stampede,  was 
now  endeavouring  to  hide  her  defeat — under 
more  acting  still.  It  would  be  hard  for  any 
man  with  good  warm  blood  in  his  veins  to 
believe.  At  the  same  time  not  to  be  cau 
tious  would  be  idiotic. 

"I  don't  think  he  knows  we  are  here," 
Purdy  ventured.  "Indeed,  I  am  not  posi 
tive  that  a  certain  person  I  have  in  mind  is 
really  he.  But  before  I  answer  any  more 
questions,  isn't  it  time  you  told  me  who 
you  are?" 


INTERRUPTED  CONFIDENCE    123 

"I  am  Mary  Kocian." 

"I  mean,  of  course,  what  you  are,  and 
what  you  are  expecting  to  find  up  here?" 

"That — I  hardly  know,  myself."  A 
fathomless  look  came  and  went  in  the  depths 
of  her  eyes.  "  But  where  is  Mr.  Krieg — or 
the  person  you  are  not  quite  certain  is  he  or 
not?  You — you  haven't  killed  him?" 

Again  there  was  some  flicker  of  hidden 
emotion,  and — no;  it  was  not  hope. 

Purdy  shook  his  head,  more  disturbed 
than  he  would  have  cared  to  confess.  Then 
the  feeling  passed.  After  all,  was  it  un 
natural  to  find  a  young  woman  shrinking 
somewhat  from  the  idea  of  violence  ?  True, 
she  did  not  look  like  one  who  would  shrink 
from  anything,  if  the  pinch  came.  But  it 
was  absurd  to  expect  her  to  hate  this  absent 
monster.  Why,  he  was  only  just  beginning 
to  realize  that  he  hated  him  himself. 

"I  fancy  he  is  rather  hard  to  kill,"  Purdy 
went  on,  "while  we  would  be  rather 
easy " 


124  JUNGLE  TERROR 

"For  him,  yes.  He  has  invented  some 
thing — maybe  you  know  what." 

"Do  you?" 

"Not  in  detail.  But  if  he  once  sees 
you " 

"He  has  seen  me  already  if  he  is  that  big 
fat  toad  with  weak  eyes " 

"That  is  he!  If  you  succeed  in  rejoining 
him,  never  let  him  out  of  your  sight  again. 
Follow  him  wherever  he  goes.  Will  you 
try  to  remember  that?  I've  taken  con 
siderable  trouble  to  warn  you." 

Was  it  a  woman's  dread  of  violence  which 
was  moving  her  once  more?  Hardly.  It 
looked  more  like  a  genuine  friendly  interest. 

"See  here,"  said  Purdy,  suddenly,  "there 
is  something  which  I  have  often  thought 
about,  though  I  have  never  mentioned  it 
before.  Somebody  translated  a  cipher  mes 
sage  for  Presidente  Lara  a  short  time  ago. 
It  just  occurs  to  me  that  it  might  have  been 
you." 

"How  could  it  have  been  I?" 


INTERRUPTED  CONFIDENCE    125 

i 

"You  might  be  one  of  us,  and  have  the 
key." 

"And  have  used  it  as  a  traitor?" 

All  this  time  they  had  been  standing, 
she  with  her  back  to  an  open  window,  he 
facing  her.  Purdy  now  moved  to  her  side, 
and  pretended  to  be  looking  out  at  the 
hills.  His  voice  was  scarcely  distinguish 
able  above  the  wind — almost  miraculously 
mild  for  that  altitude — which  murmured 
in  the  nearest  tree-tops. 

"Why  not  a  traitor?  Such  things  have 
been.  You  were  very  close  to  Lara.  May 
be  you  were  sent  to  watch  him — and  double- 
crossed  us.  And  then,  after  you  had  been 
forced  to  lure  me  into  a  trap,  perhaps  you 
relented.  What  was  to  have  happened  may 
have  been — too  unpleasant,  let  us  say. 
So — somebody — wrote  a  note  which  let  me 
out.  It  all  seems  to  hang  rather  well  to 
gether." 

"And  what  if  I  should  confess  that  you 
are  right?" 


126  JUNGLE  TERROR 

"Then  I  would  be  inclined  to  believe 
that  some  very  strong  pressure  had  been 
brought  to  bear." 

"You  would  be  inclined  to  excuse  me?" 

"You  might  have  been  compelled,  by 
some  motive  I  know  nothing  about.*' 

He  felt  the  intensity  of  her  look,  and  turned 
to  meet  it.  She  seemed  to  be  studying  him. 

"Isn't  it  just  possible,"  she  said,  "that 
Lara  was  the  one  I  double-crossed,  if  I 
double-crossed  anybody?" 

"Those  who  are  deep  enough  in  the  Ser 
vice  to  be  allowed  to  play  that  game,"  ob 
served  Purdy,  slowly,  "  have  a  way  of  telling 
each  other.  There  is  a  password." 

The  girl  neither  flinched  nor  changed 
countenance.  But  her  lips  remained  sealed. 
Then  slowly  she  began  to  smile,  showing 
two  rows  of  large,  flashing  white  teeth  of  a 
wonderful  translucency. 

"If  you  want  my  confidence,  Mademoi 
selle  Marie  Kocian,  you  are  not  going  about 
in  the  right  way  to  get  it." 


INTERRUPTED  CONFIDENCE    127 

"Who  said  I  wanted  it?  Perhaps  I 
don't — too  much  of  it.  That  might  be  the 
most  unfortunate  thing  of  all."  She  looked 
away,  and  spoke  as  if  to  herself:  "And  yet, 
at  least  you  might  take  my  advice — that  is, 
assuming  that  Mr.  Krieg  is  still  alive." 

"I  said  I  hada't  killed  him." 

"But  you  didn't  say  he  wasn't  dead. 
Mr.  Briggs  was  telling  me  about  the  explo 
sion.  Besides,  I  heard  it." 

"Nevertheless,  it's  safe  to  assume  that 
he  is  alive,  I  think." 

"Then  find  him,  and  keep  near  him." 

"That  is  rather  strange  advice.  It  might 
be  only  another  way  of  getting  us  out  of 
here." 

"But — can't  you  see?  If  you  are  with 
him  you  can  deal  with  him  as  you  would 
with  any  man.  While  he  is  away  you 
can't." 

"  Exactly  what  is  likely  to  happen  if  he 
finds  out  we  are  here?" 

"I  can't  tell  you — exactly.     If  he  once 


128  JUNGLE  TERROR 

arrives,  nothing.  Perhaps  if  you  are  sure 
he  didn't  follow  you  at  a  distance,  we'd 
better  stay.  I  can  fix  myself  a  place  in 
one  of  the  cottages.  They  are  empty,  aren't 
they?" 

"Yes;  but  don't  you  think  you've  adopted 
a  rather  unconventional  way  of  travelling  ?" 

"Shockingly  so.  Chaperones  are  rather 
scarce  in  my  line  of  business." 

"What  is  your  line?" 

A  flash  of  hatred,  as  if  she  had  seen  a 
feared  and  detested  object,  passed  before 
her  inner  vision;  of  hatred  and  despair,  such 
as  he  had  never  in  his  life  dreamed  of,  trans 
formed  the  woman's  features  for  an  instant. 
Then  she  relaxed. 

"I  am  the  Queen  of  Sheba,  come  to  life 
and  looking  for  a  Solomon." 

"You  look  it — now — I  must  confess,"  he 
assented,  joining  in  her  laugh. 

Whatever  might  be  the  power  exercised 
by  the  absent  Krieg,  it  was  evident  that 
Marie  had  a  power  of  her  own,  and  possibly 


INTERRUPTED  CONFIDENCE    129 

even  more  subtle  and  dangerous.  Irresisti 
bly,  against  his  will,  the  conversation  had 
turned  into  the  eternal  path  which  runs  be 
tween  man  and  woman.  They  might  have 
been  starting  out  to  keep  a  dinner  engage 
ment  on  Broadway  for  all  the  hostility  there 
was  now  in  their  manner. 

This  insidious  friendliness  was  even  more 
apparent  when  they  joined  the  others, 
found  a  stock  of  provisions,  and  sat  down 
all  together  to  a  mid-morning  meal.  Briggs 
was  already  a  maudlin  captive,  and  Tommy, 
as  soon  as  he  had  recovered  from  the  final 
effects  of  the  drug,  went  over  unreservedly 
to  Marie's  side. 

"  I  suppose  she's  just  about  the  worst  diffi 
culty  weVe  run  into  yet,"  he  whispered  to 
Purdy,  while  Marie  went  to  reheat  the  coffee 
by  the  open  fire.  "But  I  don't  care.  I'm 
for  her.  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  stunner  in 
your  life  ?  And  maybe  she's  all  right." 

"Maybe  she  is,  and — oh,  hang  it  all! 
I'm  with  you.  Let's  have  a  jolly  party. 


130  JUNGLE  TERROR 

We  don't  live  but  once,  and  it  won't  make 
the  next  encounter  with  battle,  murder,  and 
sudden  death  anymore  uncomfortable." 

And  a  jolly  party  it  was,  Marie's  foreign 
qualities  disappearing  more  and  more  every 
minute  beneath  an  easy,  American  good- 
fellowship.  And  jolly  it  remained  until 
Briggs,  his  eyes  wandering  in  curiosity  about 
the  shop,  chanced  to  discover  a  solitary  cap 
hanging  upon  a  nail — so  conspicuously  that 
he  had  at  first  overlooked  it.  An  ordinary 
cap  it  was,  of  a  dirty,  well-worn  blue.  But 
its  effect  on  the  miner  was  startling.  He 
leaped  up,  rushed  forward  to  examine  it, 
and  turned  back  to  the  table  with  a  face 
from  which  all  expression  had  completely 
gone. 

"  Weisner ! "  he  was  mumbling.  "  Do  you 
see  the  name  Weisner  here  inside  the  sweat- 
leather?  Weisner  was  my  partner.  This 
here  cap  is  hisen.  And  he's  been  missin'  for 
three  months." 

A  chill  descended  upon   Purdy's  spirit. 


INTERRUPTED  CONFIDENCE    131 

Had  or  had  not  Marie  started  at  the  name 
Weisner?  And  anyway,  there  is  always  an 
uncomfortable  sound  to  that  word  "miss 
ing";  and  the  sight  of  something  belonging 
to  a  missing  person  never  suggests  pleasant 
things.  A  more  careful  examination  of  the 
whole  place  was  undoubtedly  in  order. 

But  they  found  nothing  new  to  attract 
their  attention  until  they  came  to  that 
pump-like  contrivance  near  the  door.  The 
frost-covered  pipes  proved,  on  closer  exami 
nation,  to  go  down  through  the  floor.  In 
the  floor  also  was  a  large  steel  plate  set 
flush  with  the  cement  surface  and  rendered 
almost  indistinguishable  from  it  by  a  thin 
coating  of  dust.  The  plate  was  fitted  with 
a  sunken  ring,  and  lifted  without  difficulty 
upon  hidden  hinges,  revealing  the  top  of  a 
small  round  tank  nearly  filled  with  some 
thing  having  a  dark,  burnished  surface. 
Purdy  stooped  down.  In  the  semi-trans 
parency  of  its  depths  there  were  long, 
wisp-like  filaments  of  green.  Filaments  of 


i32  JUNGLE  TERROR 

green,  as  in  the  pool  at  the  cave !  And  they 
had  been  making  merry  within  three  yards 
of  it. 

At  the  same  instant  he  saw  something 
fall  from  Briggs's  hand. 

Since  coming  upon  the  cap,  the  miner 
had  gone  about  with  his  pocket-knife  open 
and  ready  as  if  for  an  immediate  attack. 
But  on  looking  down  into  the  tank  his  whole 
body  began  to  tremble  violently,  making  it 
plain  that  another  mystery  was  really  more 
than  he  could  bear.  And  now  the  knife 
slipped  from  his  ringers  and  plunged  straight 
for  that  malignantly  glittering,  green- 
•^treaked  surface. 

Purdy  watched  it  fall  as  one  might  watch 
the  approaching  end  of  the  world.  Ages 
seemed  to  elapse,  though  there  was  not 
time  for  him  to  move  a  muscle.  He  re 
membered  what  had  happened  at  the  cave, 
and  already  he  could  feel  the  machine- 
shop  and  all  in  it  and  around  it  simply  dis 
integrating  into  their  original  elements. 


INTERRUPTED  CONFIDENCE    133 

The  knife  struck.  There  was  a  tinkle, 
as  of  metal  against  metal.  That  was  all. 
The  surface  of  the  tank's  contents  was  not 
even  dented.  Solid!  And  he  had  thought 
that  it  was  a  liquid.  Surely  this  same  sub 
stance  had  been  a  liquid  in  the  cave.  He  had 
seen  tiny  ripples.  Perhaps  it  was  frozen. 
That  was  it — frozen  by  the  ice-machine. 
Danger  lay  not  in  a  blow  or  jar  but  in  fire. 

"  I  think  it's  all  right,"  he  said,  motioning 
the  others  back  and  carefully  closing  the 
trap.  "  But  I  hope  there's  no  electric  wire 
concealed  in  that  stuff." 

"Do  you  suppose  it's  explosive?"  asked 
Tommy. 

"Rather!" 

"That  isn't  what  got  loose  up  in  the  hills 
yesterday,  you  don't  mean?" 

Purdy  nodded,  but  his  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  Marie.  Her  warning  against  the 
machine-shop  as  a  place  of  residence  seemed 
to  be  justified. 

"No,   it   isn't  that,"   she    answered   to 


134  JUNGLE  TERROR 

his  gaze,  "it  isn't  an  explosive — the  thing 
we're  looking  for.  At  least,  I  don't  think 
so." 

"Neither  do  I,"  agreed  Purdy,  remaining 
beside  her  while  the  others  went  back  to 
the  table.  "Though  after  all,  what  is  an 
explosive  but  a  sudden  release  of  force? 
We're  not  looking  for  a  new  kind  of  artillery, 
or  anything  like  that,  I  am  certain.  But  an 
explosive — it  might  be  one  of  the  forms 
which  it  takes — the  thing,  whatever  it  is. 
Did  you  ever  stop  to  think  what  would 
happen  if  a  man  could  overcome  material 
resistance  absolutely  in  every  direction  and 
quite  at  his  will  ?  Why,  just  to  move  faster, 
just  to  be  a  little  stronger  than  anything  now 
existing  would  make  him  practically  om 
nipotent." 

He  had  forgotten  his  suspicions.  Were 
they  not  comrades  in  danger  ? 

"I  have  a  plan,"  she  suddenly  broke 
out.  "If  I  tell  you — if  we  work  together 
—do  y«u  think  you  ceuld  hide  the  fact 


INTERRUPTED  CONFIDENCE    135 

from  everybody  and  under  all  circum 
stances?" 

"Try  me,"  said  Purdy. 

As  he  spoke,  the  door  opened.  There 
stood  the  man  with  goggles. 


CHAPTER  XII 

A    CRISIS 

fpPT^HE  goggles  were  thrust  back  upon 
j  his  forehead  now,  revealing  a  pair  of 

-*-  small  blue  eyes — the  most  repulsive 
eyes  that  Purdy  had  ever  seen.  They 
looked  like  pig's  eyes  rendered  pale  and 
weak  from  much  reading.  The  rest  of  the 
man  more  resembled  a  blond,  hairless 
gorilla  grown  fat  from  want  of  physical 
exercise.  It  was  this  incongruous  combina 
tion — the  beast  sicklied  o'er  with  the  pale 
cast  of  schoolmaster — which  made  him  so 
monstrous.  For  what  would  not  a  beast 
turned  schoolmaster  be  capable  of? 

Purdy's  first,  instinctive  movement  was 

toward  Marie.     His  impulse  was  to  protect 

her  from  even  a  sight  of  this  intruder.     But 

she  evaded  him.  and  with  a  cry  ringing 

136 


A  CRISIS  137 

with  relief  and  joy  threw  herself  literally 
into  the  intruder's  arms.  Yes,  she,  the 
friendly  Queen  of  Sheba  of  their  feast ! 

Purdy  shivered,  and  cursed  himself  for 
his  simplicity.  Here  he  had  been  on  the 
point  of  collaborating  with  her  on  some 
plan — something  designed,  perhaps,  with 
the  sole  idea  of  destroying  him.  This  inter 
ruption  was  providential.  And  he  cursed 
himself  again  for  the  twinge  so  much  like 
jealousy  which  shot  through  him  as  he  saw 
the  brutal  kiss  which  descended  time  and 
time  again  upon  her  full,  unflinching  lips. 

"You  haf  come  to  me!"  gloated  that 
guttural  voice. 

"But  yes!  And  look  who  I  have  found 
here.  Messieurs,  you  have  met  Mr.  Krieg, 
my  husband  ?" 

Her  husband!  And  Krieg — the  man  of 
the  casa,  of  the  mountains,  of  the  book  of 
blasphemies  against  sound  reason — they 
were  one,  rsure  enough.  Marie  had  ad 
dressed  him  in  her  natural  voice  as  one  who 


138  JUNGLE  TERROR 

knew  her  in  her  true  character;  but  she  be 
gan  to  mince  her  words  when  she  turned  to 
the  others,  and  the  glance  which  she  cast  in 
Purdy's  direction  was  altogether  mocking. 
Well,  didn't  such  stupidity  as  his  deserve  all 
the  ridicule  it  could  get?  He  should  have 
recognized  that  hair  at  once;  so  black,  and 
yet  with  a  sub-tint  that  was  only  a  dark, 
dark  blue,  as  of  steel. 

Krieg  looked  up  and  seemed  to  see  them 
for  the  first  time. 

"My  peoble?"  he  cried.  "Nein!  Some 
pigs." 

He  went  over  to  the  hutch  which  Purdy 
had  already  investigated,  took  one  of  the 
guinea  pigs,  dropped  it  to  the  floor,  and 
wantonly  ground  out  its  life  beneath  his 
heel.  There  was  a  gasp  of  horror  from 
three  men.  But  the  outrage  was  over  be 
fore  they  could  stir.  Marie  merely  smiled. 

"This  is  a  liddle  pig,"  Krieg  continued, 
with  a  bellow  of  a  laugh.  "  I  haf  also  a  nice 
reception  ready  for  der  big  ones.  It  is  only 


A  CRISIS  139 

necessary  that  we  leaf  them  alone.    Come ! 
I  take  you  with  me/' 

Here  threatened  the  very  situation  which 
Marie  had  warned  against.  Was  it  certain 
to  prove  desirable  just  because  of  that  ?  To 
be  left  alone,  and  Krieg  knowing  where  they 
were — Purdy  did  not  like  the  idea.  But  he 
could  do  nothing.  He  had  left  his  auto 
matic  at  the  cave.  Briggs  was  not  only 
wounded  but  practically  unarmed,  or  he 
would  never  have  drawn  a  mere  knife  when 
frightened  by  the  finding  of  the  cap.  As 
for  Tommy — but  why  speculate  ?  There 
was  no  chance  for  a  word  with  Tommy. 
And  even  should  Tommy  attempt  to  draw 
of  his  own  notion  the  probabilities  were  all 
against  success.  Krieg's  little  eyes  had  in 
them  a  look  of  watchfulness,  and  his  move 
ments  that  sly  rapidity  not  infrequently 
met  with  in  men  whose  superfluous  flesh 
has  a  substantial  foundation  in  bone  and 
muscle.  No;  Purdy  could  do  nothing,  not 
even  if  he  were  certain  what  he  wanted  to  do. 


140  JUNGLE  TERROR 

But  Marie  was  endeavouring  to  keep 
Krieg  there.  No  doubt  of  that.  Her  Hans, 
she  insisted,  was  tired  and  hungry.  He  must 
eat  and  rest.  Also  he  was  fearfully  cut  and 
bruised.  His  hurts  must  be  attended  to. 
What  was  she  up  to?  Had  she  really  a 
woman's  natural  horror  of  murder  (and  who 
knew  how  dreadful  might  be  the  form  of 
that  which  impended?)  when  it  applied  to 
human  beings  and  not  guinea  pigs  ?  Or  was 
there  something,  after  all,  in  that  plan  which 
she  had  pretended  to  have  thought  of?  A 
plan  which  must  be  hidden  from  every 
body  and  under  all  circumstances,  she  had 
said. 

It  would  not  do  to  go  too  far  in  distrust 
any  more  than  in  confidence.  He  must 
watch  and  wait.  Certainly  the  way  she 
clung  to  that  room  seemed  to  have  method 
in  it.  It  was  as  though  her  soul's  salvation 
depended  on  her  presence  there.  Nothing 
could  have  exceeded  the  ingenuity  with 
which  she  put  off  the  hour  of  leaving. 


A  CRISIS  141 

Krieg's  wounds  and  bruises  were  bathed  and 
bandaged  with  a  care  and  tenderness  that 
concealed  an  enormous  amount  of  slowness. 
Then  she  engaged  him  in  a  long-whispered 
conversation,  which  brought  at  first  a  look 
of  ferocious  cunning  to  his  face,  and  later  a 
fatuous  expression,  like  that  of  a  king  who 
had  just  heard  of  tardy  but  to-be-expected 
homage  proffered  him  by  some  rebellious 
tribe.  From  the  way  in  which  he  shook  his 
head  it  seemed  evident  that  the  tribe  was  to 
be  punished  nevertheless ;  but  the  fat  gorilla 
was  pleased. 

Purdy,  waiting  breathlessly  for  some  mo 
ment  when  his  enemy  should  be  definitely 
off  guard,  for  some  opportunity  to  get  the 
upper  hand,  rested  his  foot  with  elaborately 
feigned  negligence  against  the  base  of  one 
of  the  open-work,  structural-iron  supports 
which  held  up  the  centre  of  the  roof.  In 
stantly  he  was  aware  that  he  stood  at  the 
base  not  of  a  support  only  but  of  a  ladder. 
The  goggled  man  seemed  to  deal  in  ladders. 


i42  JUNGLE  TERROR 

Or  were  these  regularly  spaced  crosspieces 
but  the  accidental  result  of  structure  ? 

The  question  interested  him,  and  took 
his  mind  for  an  instant  from  the  general 
situation.  Then  a  heavy  hand  fell  upon 
his  shoulder  and  jerked  him  several  paces 
to  the  rear. 

"Keep  away  from  dod!"  Krieg  was  fum 
ing,  and  gesticulating  in  his  face.  "I  vill 
haf  no  climbing  about,  no  monkey  tricks." 

Purdy  said  nothing,  but  at  the  first  op 
portunity  he  glanced  aloft,  and  saw  just 
under  the  rafters  something  which  looked 
like  an  electric  circuit-breaker.  He  had  felt 
Krieg's  fingers  creeping  over  his  person, 
looking  for  weapons,  and  now  he  saw  him 
searching  Briggs,  disarming  Tommy.  Some 
thing  had  evidently  aroused  his  sense  of 
caution.  Had  the  circuit-breaker  anything 
to  do  with  it  ? 

Purdy  glanced  at  Marie,  who  was  begin 
ning  to  prepare  another  meal.  A  look  like 
despair  rested  for  a  moment  on  her  face. 


A  CRISIS  143 

That  plan  of  hers!  Was  it  real?  Had  it 
miscarried  somehow — and  just  at  this  par 
ticular  instant?  But  no.  It  was  not  de 
spair,  it  was  resolution  which  he  saw.  His 
eyes  had  deceived  him.  Painful,  agonized 
resolution,  perhaps;  but  still  resolution, 
determined,  immovable.  And  by  the  time 
that  Krieg  was  ready  to  partake  of  the  food 
which  she  set  before  him  with  all  the  anxious 
solicitude  in  the  world,  she  had  become 
wholly  the  devoted  slave,  every  thought 
apparently  absorbed  in  the  task  of  serving 
her  lord. 

"She  says  you  know  something  of  my 
power — my  plans — my  glorious  future," 
said  Krieg  at  last,  emptying  his  mouth  to 
address  Purdy.  "Iss  it  so?  You  would 
like  to  join  to  the  great  revolution  which  I 
make  against  this  foolish  idea  of  der  peoble 
rules?" 

"  I  came  to  fight  you,"  said  Purdy,  quietly. 
He  had  been  trying  to  grasp  fully  in  all  its 
ramifications  a  vague  idea  suggested  by  the 


144  JUNGLE  TERROR 

circuit-breaker,  and  this  sudden  summons  to 
reality  was  something  of  a  shock. 

"  But  I  am  beginning  to  see  that  resistance 
is  useless,"  he  went  on.  "  Yes,  we  would  like 
to  help  you." 

Tommy  gave  a  start.  Krieg,  who  had 
never  yet  for  more  than  a  moment  stationed 
himself  so  that  he  could  not  see  everybody 
in  the  room,  appeared  not  to  notice,  but 
stood  up  and  began  to  rant  like  a  soap-box 
orator. 

"I  do  not  need  help.  Power  iss  in  mein 
hand.  But  I  may  need  der  lieutenants. 
And  if  none  of  my  work  is  to  waste  here,  I 
need  der  labourers.  You  make  three  strong 
men.  If  I  use  you  it  iss  like  gifing  you  your 
lives.  Do  you  see  dod  iss  so,  or  do  you 
want : 

"We  have  seen  enough!'*  interrupted 
Purdy  in  a  tone  which  would  pass  as  ad 
miring.  "Tell  us  what  to  do,  and  we  will 
do  it.  Afterward  you  can  reward  us  as  you 
think  fit." 


A  CRISIS  145 

"Goot!"  cried  Krieg,  clapping  his  hands. 
"You  put  yourselves  on  the  side  of  der 
strong.  My  servants!  I  let  you  lif!" 

Could  it  be  possible  that  the  creature 
had  been  duped?  That  he  would  reveal 
his  secret  if  they  merely  humoured  him  for 
awhile?  Credulous,  bombastic  stupidity 
fairly  dripped  from  his  heavy  jaws.  Had 
that  look  of  crafty  intelligence  been  a  mask, 
hiding  the  soul  of  a  fool?  But  no!  The 
fellow  was  doubtless  a  little  mad.  A  dis 
quieting  gleam  was  never  absent  from  his 
eyes.  Only  the  iris  was  pale.  Within  the 
pupil  there  was  a  flame.  And  neither  as 
fool  nor  savant  could  he  ever  be  trusted. 

Work  began  at  once,  without  further 
promise  and  with  but  little  explanation. 
Krieg  turned  certain  valves  and  moved  a 
lever.  The  low  hum  of  an  electric  motor 
was  heard;  the  pistons  of  the  pump  began 
to  move. 

"  Power  now  iss  coming  from  a  waterfall," 
Krieg  did  condescend  to  remark.  "Der 


146  JUNGLE  TERROR 

work  mit  boiler  and  engines  iss  finished. 
You  need  not  be  afraid — not  yet." 

From  time  to  time  came  a  sharp  hiss,  as 
of  escaping  gas,  and  there  was  an  ever- 
increasing  odour  of  ammonia.  Purdy,  al 
though  he  had  rather  shirked  lab.  at  college, 
knew  what  to  expect  even  before  a  stream 
of  clear,  sparkling,  colourless  liquid  started 
trickling  into  a  receptacle  from  a  faucet. 
The  "pump"  was  a  compressor.  Certain 
compressed  gases,  when  released,  produce  in 
tense  cold.  And  cold  and  pressure  together 
will  liquefy  any  substance  known.  The 
trickle  was  liquid  air. 

Other  levers  were  moved.  The  pistons 
came  to  rest,  and  a  few  seconds  later  the 
ice  began  slowly  to  melt  from  about  the 
lower  ends  of  the  pump-pipes,  just  where 
they  disappeared  into  the  floor.  Purdy 
wondered  now  if  he  had  done  well  to  trust 
himself  and  his  companions  to  an  enterprise 
involving  the  use  of  such  machinery.  Evi 
dently  it  could  blow  hot  as  well  as  cold. 


A  CRISIS  147 

Yet  Krieg's  presence  promised  safety,  for 
the  time  being  at  least.  He  might  have  a 
liking  for  homicide.  But  suicide,  now  that 
one  had  a  good  look  at  him,  did  not  seem 
to  be  at  all  the  sort  of  a  thing  likely  to  en 
gage  his  attention. 

Length  after  length  of  the  festooned  cord 
—which  proved  to  be  of  some  soft,  absor 
bent  material,  smoothly  braided  about  a 
fine  wire  to  give  it  strength — was  taken 
down  from  the  rafters.  The  spool-like  ob 
jects,  heretofore  of  no  apparent  usefulness, 
now  revealed  themselves  as  spools  indeed. 
They  were  light  metal  cylinders,  some  foot  or 
more  in  diameter  and  about  three  feet  in 
length,  with  a  wide  flange  about  the  edges 
and  with  hollow  cores.  These  cores  fitted 
over  the  square-cornered,  projecting  shaft 
of  a  power  winch,  and  when  the  spools  were 
mounted,  one  after  another,  upon  the  winch, 
they  could  be  made  to  revolve  at  will.  To 
wind  them  with  the  braided  rope  was  like 
winding  huge  bobbins,  and  after  a  dozen  of 


148  JUNGLE  TERROR 

them  had  been  thus  filled  they  looked  quite 
ready  to  furnish  satan's  sewing-machine  with 
appropriate  thread. 

Purdy  noticed  that  the  winch  projected 
just  over  one  of  the  edges  of  the  hidden  tank, 
and  that  there  was  another  one  like  it, 
fitted  with  an  empty  spool,  over  the  opposite 
edge.  So,  when  the  last  spool  had  been 
wound  and  left  in  place,  and  the  end  of  its 
rope  attached  to  a  tiny  hook  on  the  flange 
of  the  empty  one,  the  rope  passed  directly 
above  the  centre  of  the  tank.  He  began  to 
get  an  inkling  of  what  was  going  to  be  done. 

Krieg  ordered  the  fire  on  the  hearth  ex 
tinguished,  and  then  himself  carefully  in 
spected  the  embers  for  sparks,  though  a 
pail  of  water  had  been  poured  over  them. 

"Now  listen,"  he  said.  "Everyone  his 
matches  over  here  in  this  table  drawer  put, 
where  I  will  lock  them  up.  One  of  you 
might  forget  und  start  to  schmoke.  Be 
careful  how  you  walk.  A  spark  from  a 
boot-heel,  it  might  do  no  harm,  or  it  might 


A  CRISIS  149 

— mein  Gott!  I  must  take  time  und  perfect 
this  brocess.  Not  much  danger  at  ordinary 
demperatures,  aber  it  iss  crude  yet.  I  go 
up  to  show  you  a  liddle  substance  I  call 
'novalitt'  Do  eferything  slowly.  We  haf 
blenty  of  time." 

He  lifted  the  iron  floor-plate  on  its  hinges, 
but  his  hand  shook  and  his  face  was  pasty. 
Purdy  felt  a  sudden  admiration  for  this 
lubberly  creature  whose  very  cowardice  gave 
to  his  conduct  a  sort  of  heroism.  It  is  some 
thing  to  have  cowardice — and  yet  defy  it. 
For  years  he  must  have  lived  hand  in  hand 
with  death. 

The  substance  was  now  liquid,  for  when 
the  full  spool  began  to  unwind,  the  slack 
cord  sank  slowly  beneath  the  surface.  After 
some  minutes,  during  which  almost  the 
entire  contents  of  the  spool  disappeared, 
Krieg  set  the  opposite  spool  in  motion  so 
slowly  that  the  coated  rope — now  swollen 
to  about  the  size  of  a  lead  pencil  and  of  a 
glossy,  greenish  tint — was  quite  dry  when 


ISO  JUNGLE  TERROR 

it  settled  into  place  on  the  growing  coil. 
Now  and  then  a  drop  of  novalite  would  in 
deed  trickle  back  into  the  tank,  but  it  was 
never  from  any  great  distance  above  it, 
and  by  the  expression  of  Krieg's  face  it 
was  evident  that  all  was  going  well. 

The  operation  continued  with  scarcely  a 
word  being  spoken.  As  a  spool  was  emptied 
of  honest  fibre,  it  would  be  shifted  to  the 
other  winch  and  refilled  with  fibre  trans 
formed  by  the  simple  process  of  dipping,  or 
trailing  through  the  tank — transformed  into 
that  sinister,  snake-like  thing  into  which  had 
somehow  crept  the  soul  of  Krieg's  invention. 
The  loaded  spool  would  then  be  slipped  into 
a  tight  cylinder  of  thin  steel  having  a  screw 
cover.  Into  each  cylinder  also  went  a 
quantity  of  liquid  air. 

About  midnight  the  work  was  done. 
Krieg  re-froze  what  remained  of  the  novalite 
in  the  tank,  and  lowered  the  floor-plate  into 
place.  All  was  ready — for  what  ?  It  was  im 
possible  even  to  guess. 


A  CRISIS  151 

"Let  us  rest,"  he  panted,  flinging  himself 
down  on  the  floor  near  the  fireplace  and 
motioning  the  others  to  do  the  like. 

Marie,  who  had  assisted  at  the  prepara 
tions  (and  had  somehow  managed  to  hinder 
rather  than  help),  came  forward  and  lighted 
his  pipe.  Then  she  rebuilt  the  fire,  found  a 
chair  for  Krieg's  better  comfort,  and  curled 
herself  Turkish  fashion  at  his  feet. 

He  began  to  talk. 

At  first  it  was  good  talk — about  himself, 
his  youth,  his  studies,  his  employment  by 
his  native  government  in  scientific  re 
searches,  his  removal  to  South  America,  and 
the  beginning  of  the  war.  He  had  stolen 
his  first  idea,  he  openly  boasted,  from  a 
Frenchman,  and  then  his  experiments  had 
begun  to  promise  something  so  prodigious 
that  the  authorities  hurried  him  into  the 
wilderness.  The  secret  must  be  hidden — 
and  it  was  a  secret  difficult  to  hide.  Having 
begun  by  frightening  the -natives  intention 
ally  with  a  few  simple  tricks,  he  had  later 


152  JUNGLE  TERROR 

found  himself  interfered  with  and  nearly 
destroyed  by  fear-maddened  mobs.  Since 
then  he  had  set  death-traps  everywhere — 
like  that  one  in  the  cave  which  had  come  so 
near  to  catching  him  and  Purdy  together. 

It  was  only  late  in  his  investigations  into 
the  nature  of  force  that  he  began  to  appre 
ciate  to  the  full  the  possibilities  that  lay 
within  his  reach.  And  when  he  did,  he 
thought,  why  give  them  up  to  a  Kaiser? 
To  a  War  Board?  Why  give  them  up  at 
all? 

"It  was  too  simble!"  he  cried,  excitement 
and  pride  once  more  bringing  him  to  his  feet. 
"My  force  can  be  condrolled  by  heat  and 
cold.  Condrolled  by  one  man  as  well  as  a 
million.  I  decide  to  be  Kaiser — more  than 
Kaiser — myself." 

And  then  came  the  armistice,  the  Central 
Powers  on  their  knees;  and  he  with  his 
secret  undivulged  save  in  a  few  official  re 
ports,  totally  inadequate  and  far  from  up- 
to-date. 


A  CRISIS  153 

"They  go  to  surrender!"  Krieg  shouted, 
as  if  his  little  audience  were  an  applauding 
multitude.  "They  talk  about  a  rule  by  der 
peobles.  Und  I — I,  Hans  Krieg,  that  men 
have  spit  upon,  I  am  here  alreaty  to  be 
master  of  all.  To-morrow  efening  we  start 
-in  New  York!" 

"In  New  York?"  Purdy  involuntarily 
echoed. 

"  Ja  !  There  I  did  not  pay  them  their 
damn  moneys.  They  turn  me  out  into  der 
street.  They  die  that  do  it — and  many 
more.  Die!  Die!  Die!" 

Krieg  could  speak  calmly  of  world-con 
quest,  but  the  thought  of  private  revenge 
went  to  his  head. 

Purdy  stirred  uneasily.  Not  only  this 
but  the  whole  thing  was  so  preposterous. 
Here,  while  the  world  was  almost  delirious 
in  its  first  joy  over  returning  peace,  was  a 
madman  already  hard  at  work  to  bring 
back  the  discredited  reign  of  frightfulness. 
And  he  was  certainly  not  altogether  un- 


154  JUNGLE  TERROR 

equipped  for  the  task.  The  New  York 
trip  might  take  a  little  longer  than  he 
claimed,  but  that  he  had  an  unexplained 
and  highly  efficient  way  of  killing  people 
was  beyond  a  doubt.  It  must  not  be!  He 
must  be  stopped — now,  before  any  more 
lives  were  lost.  God!  The  world  had 
given  up  its  best  already.  Had  not  Verdun, 
the  Marne,  Picardy  satisfied  even  hell  with 
human  sacrifices  ? 

Tommy,  seated  in  the  chimney  corner 
half  behind  Krieg's  back,  tapped  signifi 
cantly  on  his  forehead.  Purdy  nodded. 
But  he  had  already  ceased  thinking  directly 
of  Krieg  and  his  grandiose  schemes.  He 
was  thinking  of  Marie.  It  was  not  only 
the  world  at  large,  not  only  a  few  ungrateful 
merchants  and  landlords  in  New  York  over 
which  this  fellow  sought  power.  Anyway, 
big  schemes  can  generally  be  depended  upon 
to  break  down  under  their  own  weight.  It 
was  the  power  which  was  already  being 
exercised  over  this  young  woman  that  was 


A  CRISIS  155 

beginning  to  take  first  place  in  Purdy's 
imagination.  She  might  be — probably  was, 
in  spite  of  all  his  vague  hope  to  the  contrary 
— his  own  most  deadly  enemy.  But  her  en 
mity  was  more  and  more  clearly  involun 
tary;  the  evidence  that  she  was  under  some 
unspeakable  sort  of  duress,  though  subtle, 
was  becoming  certain. 

"Her  plan!  Her  plan!  What  was  it?" 
Purdy's  racked  brain  kept  shouting  within 
him. 

Krieg  had  dropped  his  wild  harangue  and 
was  talking  to  the  girl  in  a  manner  more 
absurdly  sentimental  than  threatening,  but 
there  were  signs  of  the  awakening  of  a  more 
primitive  passion. 

Purdy  rose  and  took  a  step,  seemingly 
aimless  but  in  the  direction  of  the  roof 
support.  Krieg  did  not  appear  to  notice. 
He  took  another.  Krieg  was  saying: 

"We  haf  spent  time  here  enough.  These 
stupid  fellows  serf  me  only  for  their  lifes. 
They  do  not  see  how  the  whole  worlt  is  to 


156  JUNGLE  TERROR 

come  to  my  feet.  We  now  go  und  make 
ready  a  place  for  you  in  the  cottage  I  haf 
selected." 

Marie  offered  no  objection.  She  let  him 
put  an  arm  around  her,  and  soon  they  were 
both  on  their  feet  and  moving  toward  the 
door.  But  just  as  she  was  about  to  cross 
the  threshold  she  shot  Purdy  a  glance 
so  sudden  and  intense  that  it  was  obviously 
involuntary,  the  last  backward  glance  of  a 
doomed  soul  that  has  not  yet  reached  hades 
but  finds  itself  upon  the  brink. 

Her  plan !  But  what  did  it  matter  ?  Too 
clearly  the  time  for  it  had  passed.  Perhaps 
it  had  fallen  through  with  the  seizing  of 
Tommy's  revolver.  Purdy  had  ceased  to 
think  of  it.  With  the  turning  of  Krieg's 
back  he  had  reached  the  foot  of  the  roof- 
support.  In  another  instant  he  was  half 
way  up  to  the  circuit-breaker,  shouting  at 
the  top  of  his  voice : 

"  Stop  where  you  are,  you  swine !  Not  an 
other  step.  Not  another  step  on  your  life !" 


A  CRISIS  157 

Krieg  spun  on  his  heel,  and  showed  a 
ghastly  face  distorted  by  sudden  fright. 
Purdy's  hand  was  already  on  the  circuit- 
breaker.  If  he  were  shot  he  would  un 
doubtedly  close  the  connection  as  he 
fell. 

"  Gott  in  Himmel !  Don't  you  know  what 
you  do?  There  iss  enough  yet  of  novalite 
in  der  tank  to  blow  us  all  und  for  miles 
around  into  adorns.  Don't  touch  that 
switch.  There  iss  a  wire — it  turns  on  one 
great  blast  of  heat.  In  a  minute  nodding 
could  safe  us!" 

So,  it  was  true,  the  vague  idea  which  had 
moved  Purdy  to  strike  almost  at  random. 
Like  so  many  other  deranged  geniuses, 
Krieg  had  prepared  a  final,  grandstand  exit 
from  the  world  if  ever  he  should  be  pressed 
to  the  last  extremity.  No  matter  now  if 
Marie  had  never  had  a  plan.  Purdy  had 
one,  and  he  rather  thought  it  would  not  only 
improve  the  present  situation,  which  was  as 
far  as  possible  from  his  liking,  but  enable 


158  JUNGLE  TERROR 

him  to  discover  Krieg's  secret  and  maybe 
live  to  tell  the  tale. 

"Nothing  can  save  us  in  a  whole  lot  less 
than  a  minute — and  you  know  it!"  he  de 
clared.  "If  you  don't  come  back  and  take 
a  few  orders  now  from  me,  I'll  send  you  and 
the  girl  and  all  the  rest  of  us  into  kingdom 
come.  If  it's  a  case  of  dying,  Fd  rather  go 
this  way  than  trust  myself  in  any  more  of 
your  traps." 

Krieg  assented  to  this  call  to  parley  with 
that  alacrity  which  has  made  the  word 
Kamarad  a  byword. 

And  Marie?  She  said  nothing,  and  her 
eyes  were  fathomless.  Purdy,  after  order 
ing  Krieg  disarmed,  came  down  from  his 
strategic  position  for  a  closer  view.  But 
the  eyes  remained  inscrutable.  He  could 
read  nothing  in  their  opaque  depths — noth 
ing  whatever. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE    THING 


rTT^OMMY  was   quite  jubilant  as  he 

I      assisted  in  searching  Krieg  and  tying 

-*•    him  securely  to  a  chair. 

"An  ounce  of  cold  lead  out  of  his  own 
gun  is  what  he  deserves.  But  I  guess  if  we 
pack  him  back  with  us  to  the  little  old  capi 
tal,  the  reign  of  terror  in  these  parts  will  be 
about  due  to  collapse." 

"  Pack  him  with  us  and  turn  him  over  to 
—  Lara?"  inquired  Purdy,  standing  so  that 
no  one,  not  even  Marie,  could  get  between 
him  and  his  aerial  post. 

Tommy's  face  fell. 

"That's  so.  I'd  forgotten  that  old  Span 
iard.  We  ought  to  kill  him,  then.  It's 
rotten  to  do  for  a  man  in  cold  blood,  but  I 
for  one  am  game  for  leaving  him  here  to  die." 

159 


160  JUNGLE  TERROR 

"Oh,  no,  you're  not,  Tommy!  And  you 
are  forgetting  another  thing.  We  didn't 
come  here  to  kill  him,  but  to  find  out  some 
thing." 

"What  is  it  you  want?"  put  in  Krieg. 

"We  want  you  to  go  ahead  with  your 
scheme,"  Purdy  answered.  "  Count  us  in  on 
it — until  we  reach  civilization.  After  that, 
I  warn  you,  it  is  every  man  for  himself." 

"  Wohl  !  That  is  vot  I  was  going  to  do. 
But  we  will  haf  first  to  make  a  long  tramp. 
A  woman  could  hardly  do  it." 

"I  don't  believe  it's  so  very  long.  But 
there  is  no  need  for  her  to  do  it." 

"Goot!  You  come  with  me.  She  vait 
here  for  us." 

"No;  she  will  wait  here,  and  so  will  the 
rest  of  us — for  you.' 

"You'll  let  me  go  alone?" 

"Yes." 

"You're  not  going  to  trust  the  brute,  you 
don't  mean?"  gasped  Tommy,  incredulous. 

"I'm  going  to  let  him  go,  if  that's  trusting 


THE  THING  161 

him.  Hurry  up!  Untie  him.  We've 
wasted  time  enough." 

"But,  Mr.  Purty,"  put  in  the  hitherto 
silent  Briggs,  "what  hold  have  we  got  over 
the  critter  if  we  let  him  slip  his  halter? 
But  maybe  I  didn't  hear  straight.  I'm  a 
little  deef." 

"You  heard  all  right.  We'll  have  our 
hostage,  that'll  be  hold  enough.  He's  no 
more  anxious  to  slaughter  the  young  lady 
than  we  are.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  Achilles' 
heel?" 

Purdy  spoke  confidently.  He  had  found, 
he  believed,  the  vulnerable  spot  where 
Krieg  was  played  upon  by  a  force  much 
older  than  his  boasted  Right  Hand  of  the 
Will;  and  he  meant  to  take  full  advantage 
of  it,  though  there  was  no  denying  that  it 
went  against  the  grain. 

Tommy  reluctantly  cut  the  bonds  which 
he  and  Briggs  had  tied  with  such  satisfac 
tion  only  a  few  moments  before.  Krieg 
stood  up. 


162  JUNGLE  TERROR 

"It  iss  a  pargain,"  he  announced,  with  a 
relieved  grin.  "You  are  right  to  dake 
pregautions.  But  we  shall  be  friends.  I 
make  you  great  men.  Do  not  be  afraid." 

He  tried  to  take  a  step  toward  Marie, 
but  Tommy  put  himself  in  the  way.  Noth 
ing  was  in  the  way  of  her  smile,  however. 
Purdy,  forced  to  keep  guard  over  every 
thing,  saw  the  smile  and  the  look  of  sinister 
intelligence  with  which  Krieg  answered. 
He  had  been  prepared  for  some  such  mani 
festation.  If  she  were  playing  a  part  with 
Krieg,  the  smile  was  an  almost  indispens 
able  bit  of  stage  business.  But  why  should 
she  keep  up  a  part  now  that  Krieg  was 
powerless  ? 

"I  am  a  fool!"  Purdy  said  to  himself. 
"Of  course  he  is  in  our  power  only  because 
he  thinks  she  is  on  his  side.  Otherwise 
he  could  plan  to  kill  us  all  together  with — 
whatever  it  is  that  he  uses  for  wholesale 
work." 

And  yet  he  disliked  that  smile  more  than 


THE  THING  163 

he  had  disliked  anything  since  coming  into 
the  mountains.  It  made  his  blood  heat 
furiously.  How  glad  he  was  when  Krieg 
finally  went.  Now,  at  last,  there  would  be 
a  chance  for  explanations. 

But  none  were  forthcoming.  Marie 
pleaded  a  headache,  and  withdrew  herself 
to  a  corner  of  the  fire,  quite  in  the  manner 
of  a  spoiled  child.  It  was  ridiculous.  Was 
this  a  parlour  ?  Were  they  to  be  treated  in  a 
matter  of  life  and  death  as  if  they  were  a 
lot  of  dancing-men  quarrelling  over  a  waltz 
with  the  belle  of  the  evening?  Purdy 
walked  resolutely  to  Marie's  side  and  sat 
down. 

"Now,"  said  he,  "let's  put  all  our  cards 
on  the  table." 

"Zie  table,  ett  iss  la  has — over  yonder," 
she  responded,  relapsing  into  her  mincing 
speech. 

"I  think  I've  done  enough  for  you  now 
to  warrant  your  dropping  all  this  non 
sense."  He  controlled  his  temper  with  diffi- 


164  JUNGLE  TERROR 

culty.  She  tossed  her  head  and  shrugged 
her  shoulders  in  a  manner  evidently  meant 
to  be  as  nearly  insulting  as  her  assumption 
of  French  politeness  permitted. 

"Oh,  if  you  are  going  to  remind  me  of  all 
you  have  done  for  me,  m'sieu!" 

"No,  I  am  not  going  to  remind  you  of 
that — at  least  never  again.  And  if  you 
are  afraid  to  show  your  hand  I'll  begin  by 
showing  mine.  I  am  an  agent  of  the  Secret 
Service  of  the  United  States,  and  I  still 
rather  think  it  possible  that  you  are.  At 
least  you  are  on  the  same  side  with  us  in 
investigating  a  matter,  which,  if  it  doesn't 
concern  the  peace  of  the  world,  at  least 
involves  the  life  of  a  great  many  people. 
You  are  married,  you  say,  to  this  man 
Krieg.  I  can  see  myself  that  you  have  got 
him  under  your  thumb.  A  very  clever  piece 
of  work. 

"And  yet  you  detest  him  and  all  his  do 
ings.  That  is  what  I  am  banking  on.  You 
have  been  playing  him  as  a  necessary  pawn 


THE  THING  165 

in  your  game.  And  I  am  here  to  relieve 
you  of  that  particular  detail.  To  tell  the 
truth,  clever  as  it  is  I  don't  like  to  see  it. 
Such  things  are  hard  for  an  American  to 
stomach.  You  may  have  to  pretend  to 
like  him  for  a  while  yet — while  we're  giving 
him  line  and  making  him  show  us  what  he 
is  up  to.  But  I've  got  the  upper  hand  of 
him  now,  and  I  think  I  can  keep  it  without 
a  great  deal  of  help.  It  will  be  merely  a 
matter  of  seeing  to  it  that  all  the  weapons 
are  in  the  right  pockets.  But  I  want  to 
understand  your  plans.  We  can't  work  to 
gether  in  the  dark." 

Marie  had  listened  with  every  sign  of 
growing  impatience.  Now  she  leaped  up 
and  stamped  her  foot  in  the  conventional 
tragedienne  manner. 

"  Do  you  think  that  men  like  you  can  get 
the  upper  hand  of  Hans  Krieg?"  she  de 
manded,  speaking  at  last  in  her  own  reso 
nant  voice.  "Do you  think  that  a  woman, 
with  such  a  choice  offered  her,  would  take 


i66  JUNGLE  TERROR 

sides  with — you  ? "  She  burst  into  con 
temptuous  laughter.  "Why,  he  holds  you 
in  the  hollow  of  his  hand.  And  if  he  spares 
you  in  the  end  it  will  only  be  because  he  is 
great  and  good  and  you  are  too  insignificant 
for  him  to  stoop  to  punish.  Men  like  you 
can't  appreciate  greatness  when  you  see  it. 
You  have  no  minds,  no  imagination.  Leave 
me  alone.  Don't  come  near  me." 

"I  don't  know  but  what  that's  a  little 
too  much  overdone  to  be  convincing," 
Purdy  observed,  by  no  means  certain  that 
it  was  not  all  an  evil  dream. 

"  Overdone  ?     I  hate  you ! " 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  cat-like  fury 
of  the  aspirate,  nor  the  sudden  stir  of  mascu 
line  indignation  which  it  awakened. 

"Very  well,  Miss  Spitfire.  I  don't  pre 
tend  to  make  you  out.  But  if  that's  the 
way  you  feel  you  will  please  hand  over  the 
little  revolver  I'm  sure  you're  hiding  some 
where  about  that  male  attire  of  yours." 

Marie  fought;  she   screamed;  she   even 


THE  THING  167 

used  her  teeth.  Tommy  and  Briggs  inter 
fered  on  her  behalf,  and  Purdy  found  him 
self  confronted  not  only  by  hysteria  but 
by  insubordination.  Yet  he  insisted  upon 
his  point,  and  finally  carried  it. 

"You  will  be  sorry — we  shall  all  be  sorry. 
I  don't  blame  you,  but  I  don't  know  what 
to  do!"  said  the  enigmatical  girl,  all  at 
once  becoming  quiet  and  offering  Purdy  a 
small,  elegant,  but  still  very  business-like 
weapon  which  she  had  concealed,  woman- 
fashion,  in  the  bosom  of  her  blouse. 

"I  hate  to  leave  you  unarmed,"  he  con 
fessed,  in  some  embarrassment.  "  But  what 
can  I  do  after  what  you  have  told  me?" 

There  was  no  answer.  Tommy  and  Briggs 
went  back  to  their  places.  Purdy  finally 
went  on  in  a  tone  which  only  she  could  hear: 

"If  there  comes  an  emergency  do  you 
really  want  me  to  leave  you  alone  ?" 

"No!"  She  looked  him  full  in  the  face. 
Then  her  eyes  fell.  "Do  not  let  us  sepa 
rate.  Do  not  let  me  out  of  your  sight  what- 


168  JUNGLE  TERROR 

ever  happens.  Give  me  your  word — as  a 
gentleman." 

With  that  her  demeanour  altered.  She 
sank  back  into  her  chair,  and  covered  her 
face  with  her  hands. 

"Oh,  what  am  I  saying!  I — I  am  not  as 
strong  as  I  thought.  You  must  pay  no 
attention  to  me.  Only  if  you  do  leave  me 
alone,  will  you — will  you  give  me  back  my 
revolver?" 

Her  eyes  were  lifted  again.  There  was 
not  a  trace  of  irony  in  her  voice,  and  her 
words  had  all  the  ring  of  melancholy  sin 
cerity.  Purdy  bowed  and  sat  down  by 
himself  to  think. 

Whatever  might  be  the  motive  of  Marie's 
conduct  (and.  that  plea  for  the  revolver 
was  certainly  open  to  suspicion)  it  was 
clearly  not  her  intention  that  he  should 
either  toast  her  or  distrust  her  altogether. 
She  wanted 'him.  tawork  in  the  dark.  Why? 
That  was  the  problem  which  he  set  himself 
to  solve.  And  the  solution  would  not  come. 


THE  THING  169 

It  was  clear  that  she  was  not  a  mere 
operative  like  himself.  She  was  more  like 
a  fanatic,  whose  motives  were  more  in 
volved,  deeper,  and  more  personal.  Like 
a  leaf,  she  was  being  blown  along  by  the 
invisible — that  is  to  say,  the  irresistible — 
but  always  toward  her  hidden  goal.  Noth 
ing  would  stop  her;  he  saw  that.  And, 
if  it  came  to  the  pinch,  she  would  stop  at 
nothing.  Regarding  her  attentively,  he 
could  not  help  thinking  of  pictures  he  had 
seen  of  Charlotte  Corday  upon  the  trail  of 
Marat,  of  Jael  standing  by  the  tent  with 
Sisera.  Whose  and  what  wrongs  were  urg 
ing  her  ?  Into  exactly  what  counter-purpose 
was  she  seeking  to  drive  the  dagger  or  the 
nail?  It  looked  like  vengeance,  but  was  it 
certain  that  it  was  vengeance  against  Krieg 
that  she  was  seeking  ?  Obviously  not.  She 
might  just  as  well  be  after  vengeance  against 
some  enemy  of  his.  To  none  of  these  ques 
tions  was  there  a  definite  answer. 

The  night  slipped  away,  and  Krieg  did 


170  JUNGLE  TERROR 

not  return.  Purdy,  unconscious  of  having 
slept,  sat  up  suddenly.  A  ghostly  dawn 
crept  in  at  the  windows.  The  others  also 
were  stirring,  as  if  they,  too,  had  been  dis 
turbed.  Moved  by  a  common  impulse,  they 
made  their  way  to  the  door. 

"I  don't  know  why,  but  I  feel  as  if  the 
bottom  were  going  to  drop  out  of  things," 
began  Tommy  in  little  better  than  a  whim 
per  in  Purdy's  ear.  "  I  was  having  an  awful 
dream,  and  all  at  once " 

It  did  not  need  Purdy's  clutch  upon  his 
elbow  to  stop  him.  Though  it  was  still 
an  hour  to  sunrise,  the  zenith  had  suddenly 
blazed  as  at  mid-day,  and  an  appalling, 
green-tinted  sun — or,  to  describe  the  appear 
ance  more  accurately,  a  comet,  a  whirl  of 
fire — swept  overhead.  The  air  filled  with  a 
screaming  noise,  like  the  cry  of  a  million 
sentient  but  inarticulate  creatures  in  agony, 
and  a  huge  object,  vague  and  dark,  could  be 
seen  rushing  ahead  of  the  flames  as  if  trying 
to  escape. 


THE  THING  171 

It  was  dark  for  an  instant  after  the  appa 
rition  had  passed.  And  then  a  single  point 
of  light  was  seen  to  glow  in  mid-zenith,  as 
if  a  lantern  had  been  lit  and  hung  high  up 
beneath  the  tent  of  the  sky.  Soon,  how 
ever,  the  lantern  changed.  It  became  to 
all  appearance  a  mass  of  molten  metal,  in 
creasing  in  bulk  and  spreading  in  every  di 
rection  with  the  frightful  rapidity  of  the 
Essence  of  Evil  itself  let  loose.  In  a  few 
seconds  it  covered  the  entire  sky  with  a 
dazzling,  unbearable  sheet  of  flame. 

And  then  abruptly  an  irregular  black 
hole  appeared  in  its  centre.  Not  that, 
either.  It  was  something  having  substance 
of  its  own,  opaque  or  nearly  so.  It,  too, 
assumed  enormous  proportions,  until  it  was 
like  an  enormous  pall,  the  edges  of  which 
hurled  themselves  toward  the  cardinal 
points  where  the  four  horizons  were  held  on 
high  by  the  mountains.  Midnight  returned 
while  something  that  was  not  so  much  a 
sound  as  the  stir  of  the  very  atoms  of  the 


VFRROR 

universe  shook  the  earth  as  though  the 
earth  were  a  piece  of  jetty* 

The  shock  aU  hut  crushed  die  onlookers 
to  the  ground.  When  they  had  recovered 
sufficiently  to  again  look  up,  die  heavens 
had  cleared.  Faint  stars  twinkled  from  the 
sky 

"What  are  we  going  to  do  now?**  chat 
tered  Tommy,  choking  with  die  poisonous 
gas  with  which  die  air  was  filled. 

*  We  mast  wait  for  Krieg,**  said  Purdy, 
""After  all,  nothing  has  happened,  but ** 

He  broke  off.  Coming  toward  them,  his 
goggles  swinging  in  his  hand,  an  unconcerned 
smile  on  his  face,  was  Krieg  himself.  And 
behind  him  diey  saw  something  which  inv 
mediately  took  their  attention  from  all  other 
•otters. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

GOOD-BYE*    EAftTH 

EWAS  an  object  about  fifty  feet  long 
md  eight  or  ten  feet  high,  shaped  iome- 
ivbat  Eke  a  fish  and  having  what  looked 
like  a  row  of  eyes  afl  along  its  side.  It 
was  covered  with  scales,  too  —  heavy,  over 
lapping  plates,  apparently  of  steel,  green 
with  damp  fungus  and  coated  in  places 
with  mod  and  aqjaatic  plants.  To  com 
plete  its  resemblance  to  a  firing  thing,  a 
soft  purring  note,  fike  that  of  a  hire  of 
bees  grrtiijg  ready  to 
r  DOJR  wjthm. 


Krieg  offered  no  objections  when  Purdy, 
with  Tommy  at  his  beds,  started  forward 
for  a  nearer  view. 


"It's  only  some  new  kind  of 
tank,"   said  Tommy,   ihiatlieg  his  bead 


174  JUNGLE  TERROR 

through  a  large  square  opening  that  yawned 
in  the  rear.  "Rather  nifty  inside.  Looks 
like  a  cabin  on  board  a  yacht.  But  it 
doesn't  account  for  things." 

Purdy,  who  was  looking  where  the  head 
tapered  to  a  sharp,  horizontal  edge — a  pro 
truding  lip  as  formidable  as  it  was  ugly — 
gravely  dissented. 

"Not  only  a  tank,  Tommy.  In  my  opin 
ion  it  accounts  for  everything.  See,  it's 
been  under  water,  hidden  at  the  bottom 
of  the  lake  most  likely.  Remember  those 
unaccountable  waves?  And  look  what's 
printed  here  on  the  bow." 

"  Scorpion"  read  Tommy.  "  Pretty  name ! 
But  I  don't  see  how  she  could  have 
smashed  those  trees,  let  alone  scorching 
them.  There  doesn't  seem  to  be  any  propel 
ler,  or  wheels,  or  anything  to  make  her  go." 

Further  remarks  were  barred  by  the  ap 
proach  of  Krieg  with  orders  to  load  the 
Scorpion  at  once  with  provisions,  with  the 
spools  of  coated  rope,  and  with  certain  other 


GOOD-BYE,  EARTH  175 

objects — some  spherical,  some  cigar-shaped 
and  of  varying  sizes,  which  he  unearthed 
from  a  hidden  cache. 

It  was  a  task,  for  everything  had  to  be 
carried  by  hand  and  put  exactly  in  the 
place  prepared  for  it.  For  instance,  the 
objects  which  were  obviously  bombs  were 
loaded  into  chutes  closely  resembling  tor 
pedo  tubes,  while  the  spools  of  novalite  rope 
were  taken  from  their  cylinders  and  care 
fully  fitted  upon  perpendicular  shafts,  six 
upon  each  side  of  a  slightly  raised  platform 
in  what  might  be  called  the  Scorpion  s  bows. 
When  in  position,  each  spool  was  a  com 
plete  windlass  in  itself — or  at  least  looked 
like  one.  And  as  each  windlass  was  inclosed 
in  a  long,  narrow  box  with  a  strip  of  glass  in 
its  front,  the  result  was  an  arrangement 
unpleasantly  suggestive  of  two  rows  of 
upright  coffins.  Liquid  air  was  put  in  the 
coffins. 

"To keep  the  stiffs  from  spoiling,"  Tommy 
remarked. 


176  JUNGLE  TERROR 

But  there  was  little  mirth  in  his  tone. 

The  morning  was  long  past  and  the  after 
noon  nearly  spent  before  all  was  done. 

"  Yezt  I "  cried  Krieg  at  last,  with  a  ma 
jestic  wave  of  his  hand. 

It  was  as  if  he  had  shouted,  "All  aboard!" 

"Keep  together,"  Purdy  cautioned  his 
companions.  "Take  my  word  for  it,  there 
is  considerably  less  danger  inside  now  than 
out." 

And  now  occurred  an  incident  which  was 
destined  to  linger  long  in  his  memory,  not 
only  because  it  gave  a  striking  and  unex 
pected  point  to  his  words,  but  because  there 
came  with  it  the  first  inkling  of  a  new  idea 
— the  idea  that  Krieg,  himself,  was  not 
without  a  baffling  problem  to  contend  with, 
something  outside  of  and  beyond  him,  dis 
turbing  his  dreams  and  for  which  he  could 
only  watch  and  wait. 

Krieg  had  been  walking  behind  the  others. 
A  low  exclamation  from  his  lips  caused 
everybody  to  turn.  He  stood  staring  up 


GOOD-BYE,  EARTH  177 

into  the  branches  of  a  tree.  And  there, 
almost  directly  above  his  head,  extended  at 
full  length  on  an  overhanging  limb,  was  a 
dark-coloured,  cat-like  beast,  of  the  size 
of  a  half-grown  tiger — yes,  unquestionably 
a  black  jaguar  come  up  from  the  jungles. 

There  was  at  first  sight  nothing  especially 
remarkable  in  this,  for  jaguars  may  be 
found  almost  anywhere  in  South  America 
where  there  are  trees,  though  the  boldness 
of  the  creature  was  beyond  belief.  Wild 
cats  do  not,  as  a  rule,  stalk  human  beings 
in  broad  daylight,  to  say  nothing  of  stalking 
a  party  of  five  within  a  stone's  throw  of 
their  habitation.  But  Krieg!  The  self- 
styled  Kaiser  of  the  World  was  actually 
trembling  at  the  knees. 

Purdy,  who  was  carrying  Krieg's  revolver, 
let  his  glance  travel  slowly  from  man  to 
beast,  took  careful  aim  at  the  crouching 
cat,  and  fired.  He  felt  sure  that  he  could 
not  have  missed. 

The  jaguar  did  not  stir. 


178  JUNGLE  TERROR 

"One  might  see  too  much — a  beast  hiding 
in  a  tree  and  not  afraid  of  bullets." 

The  words  of  the  peon  he  had  met  upon 
the  march  came  back  with  all  their  uncanny 
suggestion.  But  what  was  even  more  dis 
turbing  was  Krieg's  agitation  now  raised 
to  fever  heat.  Whether  it  was  due  to  fear 
or  rage  it  was  difficult  to  tell.  But  he  raged, 
all  but  frothing  at  the  mouth,  shaking  his 
fists,  clearly  beside  himself  with  some  un 
governable  passion. 

"Teufel!"  he  fairly  screamed.  "We 
stand  loafing  here,  und — Devil !  A  thousand 
devils!" 

Purdy  felt  relieved  when  all  were  at  last 
within  the  Scorpion  s  cabin.  Whatever 
they  were  going  to  meet,  it  was  evident  that 
they  were  at  least  leaving  some  curiously 
unhealthful  things  behind. 

Krieg  went  forward  to  a  sort  of  switch 
board  covered  with  levers  and  push-buttons. 
He  touched  something.  It  was  like  driving 
the  plug  out  of  the  flue  of  a  blast  furnace. 


GOOD-BYE,  EARTH  179 

There  was  a  deafening  roar,  a  sudden  belch 
of  fire.  The  outside  world  disappeared  in  a 
whirl  of  sparks  and  flame.  The  air  seemed 
to  wither  in  an  intolerable  breath  of  heat. 

But  it  was  only  for  a  moment.  And  then 
everything — flames,  tumult,  and  all — seemed 
to  sink  into  the  earth,  leaving  only  normal 
daylight,  and  a  thin,  metallic  shriek — a 
shriek  whose  violence  was  unlike  anything 
which  Purdy  had  ever  heard  in  his  life.  It 
gave  him  the  curious  impression  of  something 
chasing  after  him  at  frantic  speed  but  unable 
quite  to  keep  up. 

He  approached  a  small  disc  of  heavy  glass 
that  was  set  in  the  cabin  floor,  and  looked 
down.  Those  discs,  which  from  outside 
looked  so  much  like  eyes,  were  everywhere, 
and  afforded  a  view  in  every  direction. 
What  he  saw  first  was  a  whirlpool  of  fiery 
billows  that  appeared  to  be  boring  its  way 
into  the  ground.  Through  it  he  caught 
occasional  glimpses  of  white.  But  he  could 
not  understand  why  the  noise,  which  must 


i8o  JUNGLE  TERROR 

still  be  terrific,  should  suddenly  sound  so 
feeble  and  far  away. 

Then  the  view  cleared.  There  was  utter 
silence  save  for  that  purring  note  which  he 
had  noticed  on  first  approaching  the  Scor 
pion's  side.  The  glimpses  of  white  re 
solved  themselves  into  a  vast  panorama  of 
snow-capped  mountain  peaks — the  Cordil 
lera  Real — like  an  ocean  frozen  in  the  midst 
of  a  storm,  and  lying  beneath  him  at  the 
distance  of  at  least  a  mile.  The  wingless, 
propellerless  Scorpion  was  flying. 

Krieg  touched  another  button.  A  spurt 
of  flame  shot  out  from  beneath  the  car  and 
became  a  writhing,  twisting  serpent  of  fire, 
but  extending  this  time  almost  horizontally. 
The  frozen  sea  became  a  rapidly  flowing 
cataract,  which  seemed  to  pour  upward  out 
of  some  chasm  farther  ahead.  Yet  the 
waves  which  were  mountain  peaks  receded 
to  an  ever  greater  distance.  This  contradic 
tion  between  the  real  and  apparent  motion 
gave  rise  to  a  horrible  dizziness.  But  Purdy 


GOOD-BYE,  EARTH  181 

could  not  take  away  his  eyes.     The  scene 
was  terrific,  yet  beautiful  beyond  words. 

It  was  clear  now  that  the  car  moved  on 
the  principle  of  a  skyrocket.  Each  spool 
of  rope  coated  with  its  highly  explosive  no- 
valite  could  be  made  slowly  to  unwind 
through  a  pipe  reaching  from  its  box  to  the 
mouth  of  a  funnel  beneath  the  Scorpion  s 
head.  Later  Purdy  discovered  that  there 
was  a  second  funnel — above.  At  the  wind 
lass,  the  explosive  was  at  the  temperature 
of  liquid  air,  far  below  zero.  At  the  funnel 
it  was  fired  by  an  electric  spark,  producing 
an  endless  series  of  explosions.  Direction 
was  determined  by  the  angle  of  the  funnel, 
which  could  be  altered  at  will.  Speed  de 
pended  upon  the  rapidity  with  which  the 
rope  was  paid  out.  Here  was  unlimited 
power  under  perfect  control.  No  wonder 
it  was  so  quiet.  They  were  travelling  faster 
than  sound.  Only  those  vibrations  made 
by  the  funnel-mouth  itself  ever  reached 
them.  The  rest  were  left  behind. 


1 82  JUNGLE  TERROR 

As  for  the  purring  note,  it  proved  to 
come  from  two  enormous  rollers  set  at  right 
angles  to  each  other  and  revolving  rapidly 
in  a  framework  suspended  from  the  roof. 
Beneath  the  projecting  end  of  each  axle, 
and  almost  touching  it,  rose  an  upright  post 
from  the  floor.  When  the  car  tipped,  one 
of  these  posts  came  in  contact  with  an 
axle.  And  then,  in  obedience  to  the  ten 
dency  of  all  revolving  bodies,  be  they  tops 
or  gyroscopes,  to  assume  a  position  perpen 
dicular  to  any  supporting  surface,  the  whole 
contrivance  would  gather  its  tons  together 
and  attempt  to  stand  on  its  head,  thus  forc 
ing  the  post  back  to  where  it  belonged. 
So  delicate  were  the  adjustments  that  this 
incessant  wobbling  was  confined  within  the 
limits  of  a  quarter  of  an  inch,  and  the  floor 
continued  apparently  as  level  as  a  rock. 

Beneath  the  gyroscope  was  an  open  grat 
ing  through  which  a  chill  wind  began  to 
pour  with  an  increasing  violence  which 
finally  attracted  Purdy's  attention.  The 


GOOD-BYE,  EARTH  183 

power  had  been  again  shut  off.  The  car 
was  falling.  He  hurried  forward  to  Krieg. 

"What  are  you  trying  to  do — commit 
murder  and  suicide  all  at  once?" 

Krieg  turned  half  around,  and  laughed. 

"You  don't  like  it ?    Up  ve  go." 

The  symphony  of  bursting  atoms  was 
resumed — and  left  behind.  The  view  ahead, 
though  already  as  wide  as  seemed  well 
possible,  began  to  spread  yet  farther  in  all 
directions,  as  if  it  had  been  a  lordly  cupful 
of  batter  suddenly  dumped  upon  an  infinite 
griddle.  Purdy,  forgetting  all  sense  of  dan 
ger,  gave  himself  up  to  sheer  childish  won 
der.  He  had  made  several  trips  in  airplanes 
but  had  never  experienced  anything  at  all 
resembling  the  intoxicating  sense  of  mastery 
which  now  swept  through  his  veins.  In 
an  airplane  one  merely  soared  like  a  bird. 
In  the  Scorpion  one  seemed  to  control  the 
heavens — a  foolish  illusion  enough,  unless 
one  also  controlled  the  Scorpion  ! 

And  all  this  time  Tommy  was  left  alone. 


184  JT&FGLE  TERROR 

He  had  wandered  to  the  rear  of  the  car,  and 
was  standing  by  the  opening  through  which 
they  had  entered.  Two  heavy  steel  plates, 
he  saw,  were  ready  to  slide  over  it.  But 
as  yet  it  gaped  with  no  safeguard  save  a 
railing — and  that  hardly  higher  than  one's 
knee. 

At  first  the  newspaper  man  had  been 
quite  stunned  by  the  sudden  turn  of  events, 
by  being  hurled  skyward  when  he  expected 
only  to  plunge  off  through  the  forest.  Grad 
ually  he  had  mastered  himself,  after  a  fash 
ion;  and  realizing  that  he  must  not  look  at 
the  abyss,  had  tried  to  fix  his  attention  upon 
affairs  within  the  cabin.  He  saw  Krieg  on 
his  platform,  gazing  ahead  and  gesticulating 
wildly,  like  a  madman  on  the  bridge  of  a 
racing  steamer.  He  saw  Briggs,  crouching 
unnoticed  in  a  corner.  He  saw  Purdy 
quietly  examining  the  mechanism  of  the 
revolving  rollers.  And  all  the  time  he 
noticed  Marie.  He  could  not  help  noticing 
Marie.  She  was  casting  covert  glances  at 


GOOD-BYE,  EARTH  185 

Purely.  And  therein  Tommy  read  love — 
love  as  plain  as  day.  No  matter  what  other 
mysteries  there  might  be  about  her,  the 
secret  of  her  heart  was  out.  Tommy  had 
no  doubt  of  it  at  all.  And  so,  whether  she 
eventually  became  the  prey  of  Krieg  (which 
God  forbid !)  or  the  prize  of  his  friend,  it  was 
borne  upon  Tommy  that  never,  never  would 
she  be  his.  He  had  utterly  succumbed  to 
Marie  from  the  start,  had  taken  her  part 
through  thick  and  thin,  and  learned  to  live 
upon  the  kindness  with  which  she  treated 
him.  And  now! 

He  permitted  himself  to  look  at  the  abyss 
with  eyes  which  welcomed  instead  of  trying 
to  avoid  its  appalling  depths.  It  was  only 
a  momentary  weakness.  In  normal  sur 
roundings  he  would  soon  have  fought  such 
nonsense  out  of  his  head.  But  all  at  once 
the  abyss  seemed  friendly.  Its  terrors  died 
away.  He  sighed,  like  a  man  released  from 
a  long  and  intolerable  anxiety. 

Just  then  the  view  was  cleared  of  the  veil 


1 86  JUNGLE  TERROR 

of  burning  chemicals  which  had  been  hurt 
ling  across  it,  and  the  cry  of  the  novalite 
leaped  a  full  octave.  The  air  lost  substance, 
and  Tommy  had  to  swallow  continually  to 
relieve  the  inner  pressure  on  his  ear-drums. 
He  shivered.  Drowsiness  invaded  his 
senses. 

Yet  it  was  not  the  drowsiness  which 
comes  to  men  lost  in  storms  and  perishing 
from  cold.  It  was  rather  a  delicious  insensi 
bility  from  which  he  was  afraid  to  awake. 
Afraid — that  was  it.  For  slowly  an  awful 
temptation  was  crawling  into  his  mind. 
Unless  he  could  lose  consciousness  altogether 
he  would  have  to  face  and  grapple  with  it. 
There  lay  the  earth,  becoming  more  and 
more  like  a  far,  unattainable  paradise.  He 
seemed  to  be  tethered  to  it  by  a  multitude 
of  living  wires.  As  he  was  dragged  away, 
they  tore  him.  The  pain  was  intolerable. 
It  would  not  let  him  drowse.  He  was  lost. 

The  knowledge  swept  him  suddenly,  and 
brought  him  fully  back  to  his  senses.  But 


GOOD-BYE,  EARTH  187 

his  body  had  acquired  a  volition  of  its  own. 
Fiercely  he  battled  against  it.  Was  he  not 
being  torn  loose  from  his  tethers?  Soon 
he  would  be  free,  if  he  could  only  hold  out. 
Soon !  But  his  body  would  not  endure  the 
torture — for  it  seemed  to  be  his  body  that 
suffered.  It  would  not  obey  him,  not  even 
to  cry  for  help.  Would  nobody  see,  and 
save  him? 

That  vertiginous  emptiness  without!  It 
changed.  It  had  become  a  monster  now 
and  flung  itself  upon  him,  throttled  him, 
hung  like  a  millstone  about  his  neck.  And 
when  he  finally  did  manage  to  give  voice 
to  a  cry,  it  was  too  late.  His  legs  had  al 
ready  hurled  him  into  the  void. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE   ABYSS 

PURDY,  wheeling  just  in  time  to  see 
what  had  happened,  turned  sick  at 
heart  as  the  body  of  his  friend  dis 
appeared.    Krieg  gave  a  snort  of  impatience, 
and  began  moving  about  with  the  agility  of 
a  monkey.     There  was  a  touching  of  levers 
and  buttons,  a  break  in  the  sound  of  the 
funnel  below  the  floor,  followed  by  a  terrific 
burst  from  the  funnel  set  in  the  roof. 

Their  upward  motion  had  ceased.  Purdy 
felt  it  literally  in  his  bones.  He  lost  all  ap 
parent  weight.  His  feet  hardly  seemed  to 
touch  the  floor.  Not  only  had  rising  ceased, 
but  the  car  was  falling  with  a  rapidity  that 
soon  became  appalling.  In  another  second 
he  was  borne  up  against  the  ceiling,  as 
though  the  power  of  gravity  had  been  re- 

1 88 


THE  ABYSS  189 

versed.  Most  wonderful  of  all,  the  body  of 
Tommy  came  into  view  beyond  the  opening, 
and  appeared  to  be  floating  upward  through 
space.  The  Scorpion  was  driving  earthward 
faster  than  a  body  left  to  itself  could  fall. 

Krieg  shut  off  the  upper  funnel,  and 
Tommy's  apparent  rising  came  to  an  end. 
He  now  rested,  if  the  eye  could  be  trusted, 
motionless  just  outside. 

"  Schnell !     Drag  him  in ! "  shouted  Krieg. 

Purdy  moved  to  obey,  and  became  con 
scious,  as  he  reached  out  toward  his  friend, 
that  he  might  if  he  chose  step  bodily  forth 
into  emptiness  without  sinking  below  the 
level  of  the  car.  Drop  as  he  might,  it 
would  drive  at  least  as  fast.  During  the 
instant  it  took  this  thought  to  rush  through 
his  mind,  he  caught  Tommy  by  the  arm. 
Fingers,  clawlike  and  as  cruel  as  those  of  a 
drowning  man,  sank  into  his  flesh.  He  was 
locked  fast.  In  case  of  the  slightest  hitch 
he  would  inevitably  be  jerked  into  destruc 
tion.  Nevertheless,  he  was  cool  as  he  hauled 


190  JUNGLE  TERROR 

Tommy  safely  aboard.  The  world  was  too 
topsy-turvy  for  ordinary  excitement. 

The  sense  of  weight  asserted  itself  vio 
lently  in  the  normal  direction.  The  roar 
of  the  lower  funnel,  recently  resumed,  be 
came  absolutely  deafening.  And  all  was 
growing  dark.  Purdy  looked  back.  The 
sun  was  just  sinking  with  supernatural 
rapidity  beneath  the  horizon.  It  had  still 
been  day  in  the  heights.  They  had  dived 
into  evening.  And  below  them  stretched 
an  unfamiliar  country  broken  into  ridges 
of  low  hills.  Its  surface  was  right  at  hand. 
All  that  dizzy  intervening  space  had  dis 
appeared.  Total  destruction  was  a  matter 
of  yards,  of  seconds. 

He  felt  the  grasp  of  a  hand.  And  the 
secret  which  Tommy  had  read  in  Marie's 
eyes  became  in  that  instant  Purdy's  own. 
No  matter  now  what  she  had  set  out  to  do. 
No  matter  his  own  doubts  and  perplexities. 
In  that  moment  of  crisis  doubts  and  per 
plexities  were  swept  away.  It  was  as  if 


THE  ABYSS  191 

two  human  souls  had  met,  determined  to 
crowd  an  eternity  of  understanding  into 
the  pitiful  remnant  of  time  that  was  left 
them.  A  surprising  rush  of  happiness  over 
whelmed  him.  He  had  not  known  that  he 
cared  like  this.  Everything  was  over;  but 
that  was  of  no  consequence.  There  was  no 
opportunity  even  for  regret.  A  single  glance 
was  the  sum  total  of  existence.  Their  lives 
would  be  blotted  out  before  their  lips  could 
so  much  as  meet  in  a  kiss. 

And  yet — second  after  second  passed. 
Purdy  knew  it  by  the  beating  of  his  heart. 
Nothing  happened.  The  sense  of  weight 
became  crushing.  It  bore  them  to  the  floor. 
But  it  was  not  the  terrific  crash  which  would 
mean  the  end.  The  car  brushed  the  ground, 
but  it  did  not  strike.  It  bounded  skyward 
again.  They  were  saved . 

But  were  they?  Krieg  had  turned  his 
back  to  his  switchboard,  and  was  regarding 
them  with  malignant  fury.  He  had  seen 
everything.  There  came  a  sound  like  the 


i92  JUNGLE  TERROR 

slamming  of  heavy  doors.  The  steel  plates 
had  been  shot  across  the  rear  opening,  and 
shutters  closed  the  ventilating  grate  be 
neath  the  gyroscope.  What  was  the  gorilla 
man  about  to  do  ? 

Purdy  turned  to  Tommy,  who  lay  on  the 
floor  without  any  signs  of  life.  Here  was 
a  duty  which  could  not  be  neglected  what 
ever  threatened.  Purdy  had  noticed  while 
performing  the  rescue  that  the  air  felt  thick 
to  the  touch,  like  a  liquid.  After  all,  the 
difference  between  liquids  and  gases — and 
solids,  for  that  matter — lay  only  in  the  readi 
ness  of  their  particles  to  move  aside  before 
foreign  bodies.  And  when  the  intrusion 
was  sufficiently  rapid  the  moving  aside 
became  relatively  slow,  even  in  a  gas. 
Tommy  had  been  literally  drowned.  Purdy 
began  to  apply  the  usual  methods  to  restore 
arrested  respiration.  . 

"Where  are  you  taking  us?"  he  heard 
Marie  inquire  of  Krieg. 

"Straight  up  into  der  Himmel"  came  the 


THE  ABYSS  193 

answer.  "You  like  that — you  and  your 
lover?" 

"Don't  be  foolish,  Hans.  He  just  hap 
pened  to  be  near  me,  and  I  was  frightened, 
I  have  no  lover — only  you." 

How  beautiful  she  looked!  What  in 
finite  cajolery  lurked  in  her  eyes.  Of  course 
it  was  the  wise  thing  to  do,  to  coax  this 
brute  back  into  good  humour.  But  Purdy 
felt  a  new  and  sudden  alarm.  One  might 
lose  one's  life — that  was  but  the  ordinary 
chance,  taken  every  day  in  a  calling  such  as 
his.  And  also,  it  now  appeared  one  might 
lose  one's  faith — a  far  more  disturbing 
matter.  He  fought  against  the  doubt  which 
her  words  awakened.  But  could  he  ever 
forget  again  that  she  was,  by  her  own  saying, 
the  monster's  wife  ? 

The  wonder  was  that  he  had  ceased  to 
remember  it.  And  now  that  he  came  to 
ponder  over  what  had  happened  back  there 
in  the  face  of  death,  wasn't  her  present  ex 
planation  a  good  one?  Finding  him  near 


194  JUNGLE  TERROR 

she  had  grasped  his  hand — a  reflex  action, 
that  was  all.  And  the  emotion  which  he 
had  read  in  her  eyes — passionate  indigna 
tion,  that  was  it.  At  the  time  he  had  taken 
it  for  something  else,  but  passionate  in 
dignation  quite  described  it.  Had  she  been 
enraged  to  think  that  fate  was  about  to 
destroy  them  at  the  very  moment  when 
their  love  stood  confessed?  Or  wasn't  it 
more  likely  that  she  had  felt  the  bitterness 
of  finding  herself  near  him,  him  and  not 
somebody  else,  and  no  time  to  move  or  to 
say  a  word  ? 

In  retrospect,  his  notion  that  she  hated 
Krieg  as  much  as  he  did  seemed  flimsy  and 
founded  on  very  little.  He  had  never  been 
able  to  fathom  her  motives.  She  was 
moved  by  a  profound  purpose — too  pro 
found  to  be  accounted  for  by  any  data  in 
sight.  That  was  all  he  could  be  certain  of, 
unless  he  admitted  to  himself  the  genuineness 
of  her  love  for  Krieg.  And  why  shouldn't 
he?  Women  take  strange  whims. 


THE  ABYSS  195 

He  ought  to  be  on  his  guard;  doubly  so, 
now  that  his  heart  had  played  him  false. 
He  must  keep  his  head.  He  owed  that  to 
Briggs,  who  seemed  utterly  stupefied,  and 
to  Tommy,  now  slowly  coming  to  his  senses. 
True,  he  himself  had  the  revolvers.  But 
he  could  not  be  sure  that  he  had  them  all. 
Even  Marie  might  have  another  hidden 
about  her  person.  And  anyway,  there  was 
no  bluffing  Krieg.  He  too  plainly  held  the 
fate  of  all  in  his  hands — he  with  the  thousand 
and  one  instruments  of  destruction  that 
might  be  hidden  among  the  devices  con 
trolled  by  his  infernal  levers  and  buttons. 

Purdy  stared  up  through  one  of  the  look 
outs,  hoping  to  rid  himself  for  a  moment  of 
the  vexations  of  the  tangled  human  problem 
which  confronted,  and — yes,  to  avoid  seeing 
Marie's  smiles  and  the  sullen  irresponsive- 
ness  with  which  Krieg  was  meeting  them. 

The  sky,  to  his  surprise,  had  turned  from 
blue  to  the  utter  blackness  of  space,  and 
the  stars  had  come  out,  enormous,  bright, 


196  JUNGLE  TERROR 

crystalline,  without  a  vestige  of  the  ordinary 
friendly  twinkle.  And  yet  at  this  altitude 
it  was  not  night.  One  could  still  see  the 
sun.  The  sun?  Was  that  the  sun,  that 
unfamiliar  ball,  too  bright  to  be  endured, 
which  floated  over  the  far  horizon?  It 
must  be.  But  it  shed  no  diffusive  glory 
beyond  its  own  sharp-cut  disc;  and  it  was 
tinged  an  appalling  blue.  So  might  look 
the  sun  of  another  system.  There  was,  it 
appeared,  an  abyss  above  as  well  as  below, 
and  they  had  entered  it. 

Purdy's  very  soul  filled  with  the  loneliness 
of  desolation.  He  turned  his  gaze  down 
ward,  and  felt  his  blood  stand  still.  The 
earth  did  not  seem  to  be  so  much  beneath 
him  as  away,  and  it  had  taken  on  an  un 
precedented  luminosity.  What  he  saw  was 
not  daylight  in  the  ordinary  sense.  No;  the 
surface  had  commenced  to  shine.  And  it 
was  beginning  to  be  distinctly  convex.  The 
earth  had  become — a  planet.  Of  course  it 
always  had  been  a  planet,  but  there  was 


THE  ABYSS  197 

something  hideous  about  the  word  now.  It 
came  to  his  mind  with  the  force  of  a 
blow. 

We  all  know  that  we  live  upon  the  ex 
terior  of  a  ball,  but  in  our  heart  of  hearts 
we  do  not  believe  it.  Every  work-a-day 
experience  shows  our  habitat  to  be  flat,  and 
the  theories  of  astronomers  remain  cold  and 
meaningless  abstractions,  like  the  knowl 
edge  that  all  must  die,  which  some  instinct 
prevents  us  usually  from  applying  to  our 
own  particular  selves. 

What  was  to  hinder  the  Scorpion  from 
going  on  and  on  till  it  reached  the  place 
where  the  tether  of  gravity  would  snap? 
It  was  not  likely  that  the  driving  force  of 
the  novalite  depended  entirely  upon  the 
resistance  of  the  air  against  which  it  im 
pinged.  Some  of  it  must  come  from  the 
inertia  of  its  own  atoms.  It  carried  its 
fulcrum  in  itself,  like  a  bombshell,  which 
will  explode  and  hurl  its  pieces  even  in  a 
vacuum.  The  Scorpion  was  but  the  piece 


198  JUNGLE  TERROR 

of  such  a  shell  whose  explosion  never  ceased. 
Its  possibilities  were  frightful. 

And  yet — who  has  never  felt  a  longing  to 
cross  the  gulf  which  separates  us  from  our 
celestial  neighbours  ?  Purdy,  standing  nearer 
to  the  stellar  universe  than  his  species  had 
ever  stood  before,  was  seized  by  a  reckless 
curiosity.  What  experiences  might  not  be 
in  store,  what  knowledge,  before  the  inevit 
able  end  ? 

He  was  recalled  to  himself  by  a  peculiar 
feeling  of  vertigo.  Invisible  hands  were 
pressing  him  toward  the  cabin  wall.  What 
had  happened?  The  power  was  now  shut 
off.  There  was  nothing  to  obstruct  the 
view  as  he  again  looked  down. 

Surely  they  could  not  have  drifted  over 
the  pole?  And  yet  the  earth,  once  more 
approaching  and  at  a  fearful  rate,  was  clearly 
revolving  about  an  apparent  axis  directly 
beneath  them.  Of  course  it  was  an  illusion. 
Something  had  gone  wrong.  The  car,  not 
the  earth,  was  spinning.  That  was  it. 


THE  ABYSS  199 

That  long,  perpendicular  flight  had  given  the 
novalite,  which  left  the  funnel  with  a  certain 
twist,  a  chance  to  impart  its  own  motion,  and 
the  air  had  grown  too  thin  to  offer  any  re 
sistance.  In  other  words,  they  had  lost 
their  steerage-way,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
ererybody  on  board  would  become  as  in 
sensible  as  a  stone. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

PURDY   DEALT   WITH 

MARIE  was  standing,  her  back 
pressed  against  the  cabin  wall. 
There  was  an  exultant  look  in  her 
eyes. 

"You  like  it?"  snarled  Krieg,  his  whole 
fat  body  seeming  to  swell  with  venom  as  he 
turned  to  look  at  her. 

"I  have  done  my  work,"  she  murmured, 
dreamily,  the  rotation  beginning  to  affect 
her.  "Your  power  has  killed  itself.  We 
shall  die.  And  I  die  happy. 

"Why  not?"  she  finished  with  a  laugh. 
"Am  I  not  dying  with  you?" 

"Die,  then!     Auber — I  had  forgotten!" 

"The  Jaguar!  I  had  forgotten,  too.  We 
have  one  hatred  in  common.  Let  us  live." 

Purdy  comprehended   dimly  that   some 

200 


PURDY  DEALT  WITH  201 

mysterious  passage  at  arms  had  taken  place, 
and  that  Marie,  after  a  momentary  advan 
tage,  had  lost.  As  the  funnel  began  speak 
ing  again,  arresting  the  Scorpion's  antics 
and  sending  it  once  more  forward,  her  face 
grew  haggard — almost  old.  She  had  re 
sumed,  one  could  guess,  some  intolerable 
burden.  Another  thing  was  certain:  that 
dizzy  whirl  had  been  no  accident.  Krieg 
had  never  lost  control  of  his  machinery. 
And  Marie  had  mentioned — the  jungle 
beast ! 

The  cabin  began  to  glow  with  electric 
lights.  It  had  long  since  been  evident  that 
there  were  arrangements  for  maintaining 
an  equable  temperature  and  an  adequate 
supply  of  oxygen  regardless  of  altitude. 
With  liquid  air  and  an  electric  plant — no 
doubt  with  a  storage  battery — on  board,  the 
means  employed  were  easily  surmised.  And 
now,  with  all  openings  to  the  outer  world 
still  closed,  the  interior  was  positively  cheer 
ful.  A  hinged  panel  lowered  itself  from  one 


202  JUNGLE  TERROR 

side  of  the  frame  of  the  gyroscope,  forming 
a  table.  A  long,  upholstered  seat,  or  divan, 
ran  already  along  the  wall  at  a  convenient 
distance.  It  was  like  a  Paris  cafe. 

"We  haf  hunger,"  said  Krieg,  grinning 
in  Marie's  direction.  Either  he  had  dis 
covered  a  new  reason  for  satisfaction,  or 
had  determined  on  a  change  of  tactics. 

Purdy  lifted  Tommy  to  a  place  on  the 
divan.  Marie  set  out  provisions. 

Everybody  was  hungry,  and  even  Krieg 
grew  in  a  measure  human  as  the  uniquely 
circumstanced  meal  progressed.  He  ex 
plained  how  he  had  attached  parachutes  to 
some  of  his  bombs  for  producing  those  weird 
aerial  effects  which  had  been  so  startling 
when  seen  from  below.  A  parachute,  an 
improved  sort  of  Greek  fire,  and  a  high  ex 
plosive  to  spread  it  horizontally — the  com 
bination  was  quite  enough  to  cover  the 
visible  heavens  with  a  shimmering  umbrella 
of  flame.  Substitute  smoke-power  for  Greek 
fire,  and  one  had  a  contrivance  which  could 


PURDY  DEALT  WITH  203 

blot  out  the  flames  as  with  a  spreading  of 
the  fiend's  wings.  It  was  all  very  simple. 

He  answered  a  question,  too,  in  regard  to 
the  Los  Altos  railroad. 

"Some  foolish  official  people  make  me 
build  der  extension  to  help  me  ship  subblies 
to  my  foundry — as  if  I  would  make  one 
sign-post  for  the  first  Yankee  along  to  see! 
Official  people  like  the  ostriches  behave. 
They  think  nobody  see  something  because 
they  put  their  own  heads  in  der  sand.  So 
I  lay  their  rails  in  one  liddle  wrong  direction, 
and  for  myself  make  a  road,  too  good — but 
the  rails  lead  all  spies  astray.  Maybe  der 
officials  foresee  what  I  would  do,  and  not  so 
stupid.  Ich  weis  nicht." 

The  Scorpion  had  sometimes  plowed  along 
the  broader  trails.  That  explained  the  na 
tives'  avoidance  of  open  lanes.  But  Krieg 
denied  any  knowledge  of  how  Purdy's  llama 
met  its  death.  The  circumstance,  when  re 
lated,  seemed  to  cause  him  uneasiness.  He 
cursed  under  his  breath  and  looked  at  Marie. 


204  JUNGLE  TERROR 

Purdy  studied  the  switchboard.  If  he 
could  but  learn  to  run  the  car 

But  Krieg,  when  the  dinner  was  over, 
seemed  bent  on  bewildering  him  with  a  dis 
play  of  its  complications.  He  was  showing 
off,  perhaps.  At  one  moment  the  electrics 
would  be  blazing,  and  the  car  to  all  appear 
ances  at  rest.  Then  the  lamps  would  fade, 
and  after  a  mad  plunge  earthward,  unbe 
lievable  sunlight  would  pour  through  the 
circular  windows.  A  few  minutes  later 
it  would  be  night  again,  with  the  unknown 
interior  of  a  continent  lost  in  the  shadows 
below. 

"Tommy,"  whispered  Purdy,  after  one 
of  these  miracles.  "The  way  I  reckon  it,  we 
are  travelling  faster  than  the  earth  rotates 
— that  is,  more  than  a  thousand  miles  an 
hour.  Krieg  has  produced  something  new, 
after  all.  We  might  call  it — speed.  Or,  for 
practical  purposes,  you  might  call  it — 
omnipotence." 

"Look  after  Marie," said  Tommy, weakly. 


PURDY  DEALT  WITH  205 

The  unlucky  journalist  was  right.  Help 
less  as  he  was,  body  and  brain  both  to  all 
intents  and  purposes  useless  from  the  shock 
he  had  undergone,  he  had  stumbled  upon 
the  crux  of  the  situation.  The  mechanics 
of  Krieg's  discovery  did  not  matter.  It  was 
his  purpose — his  immediate  purpose,  what 
ever  it  might  be  beneath  this  new  pretence 
of  affability — which  must  be  fathomed  and 
dealt  with. 

It  was  becoming  plainer  and  plainer  that 
he  was  not  travelling  at  random.  No,  he 
'was  searching  for  something.  Hour  after 
hour  the  Scorpion  darted  hither  and  thither, 
frequently  at  such  a  low  elevation  that  the 
glare  of  its  funnel  cast  a  disc  of  brightness  on 
the  ground  in  the  manner  of  a  searchlight. 
At  times  the  fantastic  artillery  of  its  equip 
ment  would  be  turned  loose.  Smoke-bombs 
and  fire-bombs  fell,  or  exploded  in  mid-air, 
producing  phenomena  likely  to  attract  the 
attention  of  half  a  world.  But  all  the  time 
Krieg  peered  anxiously  forth,  sometimes  at 


206  JUNGLE  TERROR 

the  zenith,  sometimes  toward  the  horizon. 
Marie  was  watchful,  too.  She  favoured  this 
enterprise,  whatever  it  was.  Seated  on  a 
distant  corner  of  the  divan,  she  scarcely 
lifted  her  glance  from  the  transparent  disc  at 
her  feet.  But  if  it  did  chance  for  an  instant 
to  wander  to  Krieg,  its  loathing  was  undis 
guised.  Since  her  openly  expressed  prefer 
ence  for  death  she  seemed  less  mistress  of 
herself.  Or  was  it  that  it  was  useless  now 
to  resume  the  mask? 

Thus  far,  there  had  been  no  show  of  real 
destructive  power.  Could  it  be  possible 
that,  apart  from  the  devastating  outpour 
of  its  funnel,  the  Scorpion  had  no  sting? 
But  already  a  change  was  coming  over 
Krieg's  demeanour.  His  persuasive  efforts 
had  failed.  His  childish  fireworks  had 
awakened  no  signs  of  admiration  in  any 
body.  And  Marie  was  like  an  image  of 
stone.  Perhaps  this  piqued  his  ire.  Per 
haps  the  non-success  of  his  search  had  be 
come  too  much  for  his  patience.  But 


PURDY  DEALT  WITH  207 

whatever  the  reason,  his  face  darkened,  be 
coming  ferocious,  frightful. 

The  car  was  flying  very  low  and  at  a  lazy 
snail's  pace,  casting  but  a  faint  illumination 
upon  objects  beneath  it.  They  appeared 
to  be  crossing  a  forest.  Then  came  open 
fields,  and  the  distinct  outlines  of  a  village. 
So  far  as  size  and  appearance  went,  it  might 
have  been  Los  Altos.  But  its  streets  were 
filling  with  a  shouting  and  gesticulating 
throng,  aroused  from  sleep  by  the  apparition 
above  them. 

Instantly  Krieg  brightened  and  began  to 
dance  about  on  his  platform.  He  gave  the 
impression  of  one  who  has  found  a  forgotten 
trump  card  up  his  sleeve  and  now  means  to 
play  it.  Defy  him,  would  they,  by  their 
insolent  aloofness,  these  men  whom  he  had 
deigned  to  make  his  companions,  this  woman 
who  confessed  to  bearing  his  name?  Very 
well;  let  them  watch.  He  would  give  them 
a  sample  of  what  he  could  do.  After  that, 
perhaps  they  would  be  glad  of  his  favour. 


208  JUNGLE  TERROR 

And  if  they  did  not  yield  their  homage 
willingly,  there  would  remain  yet  other 
ways  of  compelling  it. 

Something  like  this  could  be  read  in  his 
face  as  he  circled  slowly.  Every  moment 
the  crowd  and  the  excitement  below  in 
creased.  Krieg  shut  off  the  power,  and 
swept  down  like  a  hawk.  He  pulled  a  lever. 
And  into  that  helpless  cluster  of  huts,  into 
that  host  of  upturned  faces,  something 
dropped.  This  time  there  was  no  smoke, 
only  a  blinding  flash,  which  wiped  the  village 
off  the  earth  as  a  sponge  wipes  a  picture 
from  a  slate. 

Marie,  with  a  low  moan,  sank  to  the  floor 
and  began  to  drag  her  rebellious  body  toward 
the  author  of  this  new  horror.  The  car, 
beat  upon  by  the  waves  of  the  explosion, 
bounded  like  a  light  rubber  ball  into  the 
desecrated  heavens,  and  the  cacophony  of 
its  own  motive  power  resumed  its  sway — a 
sobbing  shriek  which  seemed  but  to  echo 
the  shrieks  of  agonized  men  and  the  sobs 


PURDY  DEALT  WITH  209 

of  mutilated  twomen  and  children.  But 
Marie  persisted  in  her  act  of  abnegation. 

"Hans!  Hans!"  she  choked.  "No  more 
of  this.  Do  what  you  will  with  me.  I — I 
was  wrong.  I  submit." 

It  was  Krieg's  own  terrible  hour.  Ignor 
ing  the  suppliant,  he  shouted  and  waved 
his  arms. 

"Der  earth  iss  mine  und  der  fullness 
thereof!"  he  chanted. 

Then  he  turned  and  threw  a  piece  of  rope 
in  Purdy's  direction. 

"Tie  up  that  liddle  beast — hand  and 
foot,"  he  ordered,  pointing  to  Tommy. 

Purdy,  playing  for  time,  pretended  to  obey. 

"Now  take  him;  and  throw  him  out!" 

The  opening  clanged  wide.  The  cool 
night  air  crept  in.  Purdy  did  not  stir. 

"Oh,  enough!"  cried  Marie.  "Don't 
punish  me  any  more.  I  can't  bear  it. 
These  killings!  God!  Is  there  nothing 
else  in  the  world?  Don't  I  belong  to  you, 
Hans  ?  Aren't  you  satisfied  ? " 


210  JUNGLE  TERROR 

"You  say  it?  You  pelong  to  me?  Then 
prove  it.  Weisner  must  be  dead,  I  think. 
Maybe  my  traps  catch  big  jaguar.  We  are 
alone.  I  don't  count  these  pig.  Come 
here!  Come  here  to  me — yetz!" 

His  features  were  distorted  with  passion. 
His  eyes  seemed  to  devour  the  girl  crouch 
ing  before  him.  The  thick  lips  worked  con 
vulsively.  He  held  out  his  arms. 

She  flushed  red,  then  grew  perfectly 
white.  With  a  shudder  she  drew  back. 

"You  make  fool  of  me  again!"  Krieg 
shouted,  bending  down  and  dragging  her  to 
her  feet.  "I  vill  teach  you!" 

His  fat  fingers  fastened  themselves  in  the 
neck  of  her  blouse  and  tore  it  away. 

Purdy  had  been  looking  on,  stupefied 
with  horror.  But  now,  as  the  brute  in 
front  of  him  half  turned  his  back,  he  came 
to  himself.  Here  was  opportunity.  Let 
what  might  happen  to  the  car.  Better  face 
any  consequences  than  let  this  scene  endure 
a  moment  longer.  He  reached  for  his  re- 


PURDY  DEALT  WITH  211 

volver.  Krieg  had  left  him  two,  relying  no 
doubt  upon  the  safety  which  hedges  a  cap 
tain  when  no  one  else  knows  how  to  run  the 
ship.  Well,  let  him  find  out  his  mistake. 
Earth  could  no  longer  endure  such  a  mon 
ster. 

What  Purdy  had  not  counted  on  was  a 
tiny  mirror  set  in  the  switchboard.  Krieg 
saw  his  danger  just  in  time,  jerked  the  long- 
handle  of  a  lever  out  of  its  socket,  and 
struck  down  Purdy's  arm. 

The  revolver  clattered  to  the  floor,  and 
the  men  grappled.  The  combat,  it  ap 
peared,  was  to  be  settled  by  jungle  law. 
So  be  it.  Purdy  felt  his  hand  come  in  con 
tact  with  a  throat  into  which  his  fingers 
sank  with  a  strangely  delicious  thrill.  His 
enemy  grossly  over-matched  him  in  weight, 
but  weight  must  yield  in  time  before  the 
lithe  strength  which  comes  from  a  life  lived 
hard  and  clean.  It  was  no  grassy  slope 
that  they  fought  on  now.  The  odds  were 
fair. 


212  JUNGLE  TERROR 

And  after  all,  it  was  only  a  wrestling- 
match.  The  weapon  which  Krieg  still 
clutched  was  a  toy.  Purdy  had  caught 
hold  of  it,  and  it  was  worth  as  much  to  him 
as  to  the  other.  True,  he  possessed  but 
little  science  of  the  sort  now  needed  most, 
and  his  position  exposed  him  to  the  blows 
of  his  enemy's  left  fist.  But  the  blows  were 
growing  weaker  every  second,  and  to  a  cer 
tain  extent  he  could  block  them  with  his 
arm.  Krieg  seemed  about  to  collapse,  and 
permitted  himself  to  be  thrust  back  against 
the  switchboard. 

That  thrust  back  was  a  mistake.  This 
was  Purdy's  last  coherent  thought.  For 
Krieg's  free  hand  had  dived  into  a  cunningly 
hidden  receptacle.  There  was  the  sound 
of  a  shot.  But  Purdy  did  not  feel  the  bullet 
which  struck  his  forehead.  All  the  darkness 
of  all  the  nights  in  the  world  overwhelmed 
him. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
KRIEG'S  LEGACY 

PURDY  was  aware  that  his  physical 
senses  had  been  awake  for  an  indefi 
nite  period.  He  had  been  hearing, 
seeing,  feeling — but  comprehending  noth 
ing.  For  instance,  that  electric  light  bulb. 
His  eyes  had  been  resting  upon  it  for  a  long 
time.  He  knew  this  because  he  had  found 
them  already  open  and  looking  at  it.  And 
he  half  remembered — what  was  it  ? — a  sob 
bing  beside  him;  his  face  being  bathed  with 
something  cool  and  refreshing;  two  darkly 
shining  eyes,  streaming  with  tears.  Or  had 
he  dreamed  it  all?  Where  was  he?  What 
had  happened  ?  How  long  had  he  been  lying 
thus,  flat  on  his  back  on  a  bed  as  hard  as  a 
plank  ?  His  pillow  was  soft  enough,  but  that 
did  not  account  for  the  hardness  of  the  bed. 

213 


2i4  JUNGLE  TERROR 

Scattered  bits  of  recollection  returned. 
For  some  reason  or  other  he  had  fought  with 
Krieg,  and  that  dull  pain  in  his  head  was 
where  Krieg's  bullet  had  struck.  He  re 
membered  now  having  caught  one  flashing 
glimpse  of  the  levelled  muzzle.  The  bullet 
must  have  stunned  him,  glancing  along  the 
bone.  Now  the  wound  had  been  bandaged 
— he  could  feel  it.  A  very  good  job,  too. 
As  for  the  hard  bed,  it  was  nothing  but  the 
floor  of  the  Scorpion. 

He  started,  for  the  pillow  had  suddenly 
stirred  beneath  him.  Why,  it  was  Marie's 
arm.  And  a  voice  was  saying: 

"Quick,  dear!    Can  you  run  the  car?" 

It  sounded  like  Marie's  voice.  But  of 
course  his  mind  was  wandering.  He  had 
merely  slipped  from  one  dream  into  an 
other.  Marie  was  his  enemy,  as  nearly  as 
he  could  recall.  At  least  there  was  some 
thing  strange  about  her  which  prevented  an 
understanding.  This  idea  of  her  calling 
him  "dear"  was  a  pleasant  delusion.  He 


KRIEG'S  LEGACY  215 

wished  it  would  last.  Perhaps  she  had 
merely  said: 

"Quick!    Here,  can  you  run  the  car?" 

It  would  have  sounded  about  the  same. 

But  running  the  car — that  was  Krieg's 
business.  It  was  absurd  to  think  that  Krieg 
would  let  him  run  the  car.  He  shook  his 
head  at  the  very  notion.  Then  his  eyelids 
grew  heavy  and  closed  of  themselves. 

"It  is  useless,"  said  the  voice.  "There! 
I'll  let  you  sleep.  Perhaps  it's  all  the  better. 
How  could  I  want  to  wake  you?" 

He  slipped  away  into  another  world. 

"I  want  to  wake  you." 

Those  were  the  words  he  carried  with  him. 
Wanted  to  wake  him,  did  they  ?  Of  course. 
He  was  a  boy.  He  had  spent  the  night  at 
his  aunt's.  And  he  did  not  like  his  aunt. 
She  doted  on  him,  and  was  always  laying 
down  terrible  rules  of  conduct  for  his  good. 
Waking  up  at  unearthly  hours  of  the  morn 
ing  was  a  hobby  of  hers.  In  another  min 
ute  she  would  be  kissing  him.  It  was  the 


216  JUNGLE  TERROR 

way  she  always  woke  him  up — as  if  that 
were  a  sugar-coating  for  the  pill.  Yes, 
something  soft  and  warm  certainly  brushed 
his  lips. 

He  frowned,  lifting  himself  suddenly  on 
his  elbow. 

"Why  can't  you " 

He  stopped.  He  was  awake.  And  after 
all  it  was  Marie  crouching  there  beside  him. 
A  soft  feeling  of  elation  stole  into  his  heart. 
Never  talk  to  him  about  instinct  or  intuition 
again.  Why,  it  must  have  been  Marie 

But  no.  This  was  a  very  different  Marie 
from  the  one  he  had  been  dreaming  of  a 
minute  ago — the  one  who  had  said  "dear." 
There  was  not  so  much  as  a  sign  of  welcome 
upon  her  painfully  flushed  face.  One  might 
almost  say  that  she  was  sorry  to  see  him 
coming  back  to  life.  A  woman  surprised 
when  she  was  about  to  administer  a  dose  of 
poison  might  look  like  that.  And  now  she 
rose  hastily  and  walked  to  the  other  side  of 
the  car. 


KRIEG'S  LEGACY  217 

He  glanced  around.  Unless  his  eyes  de 
ceived  him,  Tommy  was  lying  in  a  corner, 
tied  up  like  a  package  of  merchandise. 
But  Briggs?  Krieg?  No  sign  of  either  of 
them.  They  were  gone.  It  was  ridiculous 
to  suppose  that  any  one  could  have  left  the 
car.  And  yet,  gone  they  were.  Was  the 
car  on  the  ground,  then?  No;  the  roar  of 
the  funnel  was  unmistakable.  The  earth 
was  far  off — very,  very  far,  to  judge  by  the 
difficulty  of  breathing  and  the  chill  which 
pervaded  everything. 

"  But  if  we  landed,  how  did  we  come  up 
again,  without " 

"We  didn't  land,"  interrupted  the  girl, 
speaking  over  her  shoulder. 

"But  Krieg?" 

"Briggs  threw  him  out.  They  both  fell 
out  together." 

It  was  Tommy  wrho  spoke,  and  the  tone 
was  rasping,  impatient,  utterly  unlike  Tom 
my's.  But  it  brought  back  the  whole  situa 
tion:  the  terrible  danger  which  had  threat- 


218  JUNGLE  TERROR 

ened  Marie.  And  he,  Purdy,  had  failed  in 
her  defence,  had  fallen  helpless  at  the  critical 
moment.  What  had  taken  place?  Was 
that  what  ailed  the  girl  ? 

"  When  did  he  throw  him  out  ? "  Desper 
ately  he  tried  to  keep  his  anxiety  out  of  his 
voice,  for  he  felt  that  if  he  did  not  keep 
tight  hold  of  himself  now  he  would  go  to 
pieces  again. 

"It  was  in  time,"  Marie  answered  for 
herself.  "Nothing  happened  to  me,  if  that 
is  what  you  mean." 

But  she  spoke  indifferently,  and  Tommy 
was  beckoning  with  an  almost  imperceptible 
motion  of  his  head.  It  was  truly  strange 
that  Tommy  should  be  in  bonds. 

"  How  in  the  world  did  you  get  into  such 
a  fix  as  this?"  asked  Purdy,  struggling  to 
his  feet  and  going  toward  him.  How  fright 
fully  his  head  ached  when  he  moved.  It 
was  almost  impossible  to  think.  The  effort 
of  getting  out  a  knife  to  cut  his  friend  free 
almost  made  him  numb. 


KRIEG'S  LEGACY  219 

"Krieg  tied  me  up  right  after  shooting 
at  you,"  said  Tommy.  "He  didn't  want 
to  take  any  more  chances  with  us,  I 
guess. 

"And  she,"  he  added  in  a  whisper,  indi 
cating  Marie  who  was  looking  off  into  the 
distance,  "she  hasn't  had  any  time  to 
loosen  me.  There  was  no  possibility  of  my 
knowing  how  to  run  the  car.  She's  been 
working  over  you.  But  listen.  There's 
something  I  want  to  tell  you." 

Purdy  stooped  lower  to  catch  the  words, 
and  cut  the  last  of  the  fetters.  Tommy 
went  on: 

"I  love  her.  I  don't  care  who  or  what 
she  is.  But  I've  got  to  tell  you  something. 
Krieg  went  crazy,  I  think.  After  laying 
you  out  he  began  dropping  bombs.  He 
let  loose  everything  in  the  shop.  It  looked 
as  if  the  whole  world  would  be  blown  to 
pieces.  Briggs  threw  himself  on  him  while 
he  was  doing  that — got  hold  of  him  and  held 
his  arms  down  and  dragged  him  out.  He 


220  JUNGLE  TERROR 

may  have  been  a  hunchback,  but  he  fought 
like  a  bear. 

"And  in  the  midst  of  it,"  Tommy  choked; 
"in  the  midst  of  it,  with  me  lying  here  not 
able  to  stir,  Marie  tried  to  help  Krieg,  and 
nearly  went  out  with  him  trying  to  save 
him.  No,  she  didn't  want  him  to  die.  God ! 
I  wish  I  hadn't  lived  to  see  it." 

"All  right,"  said  Purdy,  speaking  aloud 
and  hiding  his  feelings  with  an  ability  which 
surprised  him.  "  I'll  see  what  I  can  do  with 
the  machinery.  Where  are  we?  A  good 
way  up  by  the  way  it  feels." 

"Yes;  we've  been  gradually  getting  higher 
for  a  long  time.  But  I've  no  idea  where  we 
are — and  I  didn't  know  how  to  shut  the 
door." 

It  was  Marie  who  had  come  forward,  and 
in  her  hands  was  a  glass. 

"Here,  drink  this.  It  will  make  you  feel 
better." 

He  drank  what  proved  to  be  brandy,  and 
did  feel  better  immediately.  Tommy — 


KRIEG'S  LEGACY  221 

what  had  Tommy  been  saying  ?  Oh,  some 
thing  monstrous!  His  brain  reeled  again 
as  he  realized  that  it  had  really  been  said — 
was  not  a  part  of  some  horrible  nightmare. 
Marie's  supposed  antagonism  to  Krieg  must 
have  been  mere  pretence,  then.  Yes,  it  was 
monstrous.  He  staggered  as  he  made  for  the 
switchboard,  unable  to  look  her  in  the  face. 

"Wait!"  she  admonished  him.  "Don't 
touch  anything  yet.  There  is  something  I 
want  to  tell  you.55 

Tommy's  exact  words!  Purdy  waited. 
What  would  he  be  hearing  next  ? 

"Just  at  the  last  minute,  when  he  was 
begging  Briggs  to  let  go,  Krieg  made  a 
threat.  He  said  that  if  he  died  we'd  find 
that  he'd  left  something  behind  for  us  to 
remember  him  by.  What  if  he  has  fixed 
the  machinery  so  that  it  can't  be  run?  He 
knew  you  had  been  watching  him.  He 
might  have  prepared,  in  case  he  was  at 
tacked  again — why,  it  might  explode,  or 
anything!" 


222  JUNGLE  TERROR 

Their  common  peril  was  drawing  them 
together.  Her  voice  was  more  natural.  She 
had  come  near  and  was  looking  over  his 
shoulder.  Confound  it,  it  was  impossible  to 
distrust  her!  He  knew  very  well  that  if  she 
had  fought  on  the  side  of  Krieg  it  was  not 
merely  to  save  the  Scorpion's  one  competent 
engineer.  Another  woman  might  very  well 
have  hesitated  to  trust  herself  in  a  flying 
monster  of  steel  without  the  man  who  knew 
how  to  keep  it  flying — yes,  and  have  tried 
to  save  him  though  he  were  the  devil  him 
self.  But  Marie  must  have  had  a  deeper 
reason.  She  was  not  frightened  even  now. 
The  anxiety  of  a  lieutenant  on  the  eve  of  a 
desperate  charge  is  not  personal  fear.  Very 
well.  Might  she  not  have  had  a  better 
reason,  then? 

Comforted  in  spite  of  himself  by  a  re 
newed  sense  of  companionship,  Purdy 
touched  an  electric  button — and  the  cabin 
lights  went  out.  The  mistake  was  soon 
rectified.  Another  button,  and  the  car's 


KRIEG'S  LEGACY  223 

rear  opening  closed.  Yet  another,  and 
artificial  heating  and  air-supply  was  re 
established,  as  was  soon  evident  by  in 
creased  comfort.  Matters  were  progressing 
famously.  And  then,  while  he  hesitated 
as  to  what  to  do  next,  a  shudder-like 
tremor  passed  through  the  very  founda 
tions  of  the  car.  It  did  not  exactly  lurch, 
but  the  old  sense  of  stability  was  alarm 
ingly  gone. 

"What  was  that?"  asked  Marie,  still  at 
his  side. 

"I  don't  know.  I  thought  we  struck 
something — but  of  course  that's  impossible." 

He  shut  off  the  power — by  a  lever  he  had 
seen  Krieg  use.  It  became  very  quiet. 
Too  quiet.  An  element  was  missing  from 
what  they  had  grown  accustomed  to  regard 
as  silence. 

"I  know!"  cried  Purdy.  "The  current 
has  been  disconnected  from  the  gyroscope. 
It's  running  down." 

As  he  spoke,  the  Scorpion  lunged  sharply 


224  JUNGLE  TERROR 

forward,  then  turned  completely  over  and 
began  to  roll  and  plunge  like  a  bird  that  has 
been  wounded  in  full  wing  and  falls  help 
lessly  to  its  death.  The  confusion  on  board 
was  indescribable. 

But  Purdy  clung  desperately  to  his  levers. 
The  switchboard  was  as  if  alive.  It  flung 
him  this  way  and  that.  One  instant  he 
would  be  thrown  violently  against  it;  the 
next  it  would  try  to  escape  from  him  alto 
gether.  Now  it  would  be  right  side  up;  now 
upside  down.  But  always  he  clung  to 
what  was  before  him.  Sometimes  it  was 
by  only  one  hand — but  he  clung,  manipulat 
ing  one  thing  after  another  as  it  came  within 
reach,  determined  to  find  the  right  bit  of 
mechanism  to  bring  order  out  of  chaos. 
Once  the  power  came  on  at  one  of  the  fun 
nels  and  made  matters  only  the  worse. 
But  finally,  in  a  fortunate  moment,  just  as 
his  strength  was  about  exhausted,  he  moved 
the  proper  switch.  The  gyroscope,  taking 
up  its  note,  gradually  brought  the  car  to  a 


KRIEG'S  LEGACY  225 

level.  He  wiped  a  trickle  of  blood  from  his 
face,  and  looked  around. 

The  others  had  come  through  the  terrific 
shake-up  better  than  could  have  been  ex 
pected.  Tommy  had  indeed  suffered  many 
bruises,  but  declared  himself  alive  and  with 
out  serious  injury.  Marie  had  found  a  post 
to  hold  fast  to,  and  was  practically  un 
scathed.  Her  eyes  were  shining. 

"That  was  splendid — what  you  did  then," 
she  said.  "You'll  save  us  yet." 

"Yes,  I  think  so,"  he  assented  with  a 
shade  of  doubt. 

He  had  discovered  something — was  be 
ginning  to  understand  what  sort  of  a  legacy 
Krieg  had  really  taken  pains  to  leave  behind 
him.  It  was  something  more  than  a  dis 
connected  gyroscope. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

WEISNER 

THOUGH  the  car  had  lost  a  great  deal 
of  its  former  altitude,  it  was  moving 
quite  at  his  will  now  above  an  endless 
expanse  of  white,  broken  clouds,  lighted  by 
a  low  western  moon.  It  was  fairyland. 
But  he  had  been  looking  at  the  inclosed 
windlasses — that  row  of  upright,  glass- 
lidded  coffins  on  either  side  of  the  switch 
board.  In  one  a  spool  of  novalite  turned 
slowly.  The  others  were  empty.  There 
was  an  arrangemnet,  he  saw,  which  per 
mitted  the  spools  to  be  dropped  in  lieu  of 
bombs  through  a  chute  in  the  floor.  Krieg 
had  thrown  overboard  the  extra  supply  of 
power.  Only  that  single  spool  was  left. 
Would  it  be  enough  to  take  them  safely 

down? 

226 


WEISNER  227 

Purdy  watched  it  unwind.  Altitude  was 
being  maintained,  and  the  windlass  scarcely 
moved.  The  barometer  showed  two  and  a 
half  miles.  Yes,  as  he  roughly  calculated 
it,  there  was  enough,  if  one  did  not  put  off 
descending  too  long — and  nothing  happened. 

What  could  happen?  They  were  alone 
in  the  universe.  No  rocks  or  shoals  in  this 
supernal  sea.  But  it  might  be  well  to  de 
scend  below  the  clouds  and  find  out  what 
sort  of  a  country  awaited  them.  No  use 
landing  in  the  midst  of  a  wilderness  if  it 
could  be  helped.  And — it  could  not  be 
denied — an  unreasoning  terror  possessed 
him.  Everything  seemed  right.  Yet  every 
thing  was  somehow  wrong.  And  he  longed 
as  never  before  to  be  out  of  it  all  and  back 
to  solid  earth. 

Marie  was  standing  to  one  side,  looking 
out.  She  had  forgotten  to  rearrange  her 
hair,  and  it  streamed,  long  and  dark,  in 
disarray  down  her  back.  An  unwonted  ten 
sity  in  her  attitude  attracted  his  attention. 


228  JUNGLE  TERROR 

He  followed  her  gaze.  Far  off  toward 
the  horizon  was  a  fan-shaped  flame. 

"It  must  be  our  shadow!"  Purdy  ex 
claimed.  And  then,  as  a  sight  of  their  real 
shadow — a  vague  penumbra  outlined  by  the 
moon  upon  the  clouds — made  him  realize 
the  absurdity  of  his  words : 

"Reflection,  I  meant  to  say.     Watch!" 

He  steered  toward  the  phantom:  it  re 
ceded.  And  when  he  retreated  the  phan 
tom  followed. 

"Yes,  it's  a  reflection — something  like  a 
mirage.  I've  seen  them  in  the  desert. 
Must  be  a  denser  current  of  air  somewhere. 
Acts  like  a  mirror.  I  wonder  how  high  it 
extends." 

The  Scorpion  had  practically  ceased  to 
move.  But  the  phantom — was  it  not  larger 
than  at  first  ?  Certainly;  much  larger.  And 
it  was  coming  nearer  with  a  rapidity  which 
seemed  miraculous.  This  was  no  ghost,  no 
mere  optical  illusion.  And  the  Scorpion  s 
hesitation  seemed  to  have  given  it  courage. 


WEISNER  229 

"  It's  another  car — like  ours,"  said  Purdy, 
stupefied. 

Marie  pronounced  a  single  word: 

"Weisner!" 

Purdy  groaned.  Weisner  had  been 
Krieg's  partner,  then;  a  second  string  to 
his  bow.  Or  else 

The  thing  came  on  and  flew  past  over 
head.  A  dark  object  fell,  just  missing  the 
Scorpions  back.  A  bomb!  No;  Weisner 
had  not  been  Krieg's  partner.  There  had 
been  two  cars.  The  troubled  lake  by  the 
casa  should  have  told  them  that.  Weisner 
had  stolen  one  of  them;  meant  now  to  make 
it  the  only  one.  He  was  an  enemy.  That 
was  the  secret. 

Purdy  drove  forward  at  high  speed. 
The  rival  gave  chase,  but  failed  to  keep  up. 
No  doubt  it  was  an  earlier  and  inferior 
model.  Purdy  breathed  easier,  and  began 
to  descend. 

Marie  rushed  toward  him. 

"We  are  not  running  away?" 


230  JUNGLE  TERROR 

"Yes." 

"No,  no!  We  must  fight.  Can't  you 
see — don't  you  understand  what  it  would 
mean  to  leave  a  secret,  a  power  like  this 
alive  in  the  world?" 

"I  see  quite  well.  But  it  can't  be  helped. 
Krieg — I  didn't  mean  to  tell  you — but  he 
dropped  all  the  extra  spools.  We've  hardly 
enough  novalite  left  to  make  our  landing, 
let  alone  staying  through  a  fight." 

"Oh!"  She  laid  her  hand  on  his  shoul 
der.  Then: 

"Are  you  afraid  to  die,  my  friend?" 

"I  hope  not.     But  you " 

"This  is  no  time  to  think  of  me.  Turn 
back!  If  you  only  knew  my  history,  my 
people,  what  it  means  to  me !  Not  death — 
that  is  nothing.  But  to  leave  this  mon 
strous " 

"Have  you  no  idea  what  I  have  endured, 
trying  to  help  capture  that  creature  out 
there?  I  could  have  dealt  with  Krieg  a 
thousand  times.  But  what  was  the  use, 


WEISNER  231 

so  long  as  Weisner  was  left?  And  now 
you  talk  of  saving  me!" 

"That's  right,"  cut  in  the  unexpected 
voice  of  Tommy.  "We've  been  as  blind 
as  bats.  Turn  back  as  she  says.  Let's 
give  it  to  the  beggars/' 

Purdy  swung  the  Scorpion  about.  Yes; 
they  had  been  as  blind  as  bats.  He  saw 
it  now. 

The  cars  charged  directly  toward  each 
other,  two  great  bulls  of  steel  brought  into 
being  by  the  perverted  genius  of  man.  But 
instead  of  locking  horns,  Weisner  at  the 
critical  instant  swerved  aside.  Nothing 
happened  save  a  sharp  rasp  as  the  circum 
ferences  grazed  and  passed.  What  game 
was  this  ? 

Again  they  wheeled  and  faced,  and  again 
a  sudden  turn  prevented  a  head-end  collision. 
But  this  time  there  was  a  heavy  jar.  Purdy 
began  to  understand.  The  other  car,  if 
slower,  was  larger  and  heavier.  If  it  could 
be  made  to  strike — not  too  hard,  but  just 


232  JUNGLE  TERROR 

hard  enough,  Weisner  might  win  a  victory 
without  cost.  Purdy  must  see  to  it  that 
the  next  encounter  meant  death  to  all 
concerned.  He  was  ready  for  anything 
now. 

The  enemy  seemed  to  read  his  mind,  for 
he  circled  wide,  darted  upward,  and  let  fall 
another  bomb.  Then  began  a  race  for  the 
zenith,  which  Purdy  won — by  a  reckless 
use  of  power. 

The  night  was  now  dark,  or  so  appeared 
in  contrast  with  the  belching  fire  of  the 
monsters  that  fought  across  it.  The  clouds 
had  thinned.  Blackness  covered  the  abyss 
as  with  a  treacherous  carpet.  Only  the 
air,  so  rarefied  that  the  shrieking  funnels 
sounded  like  the  voices  of  toy  whistles,  told 
of  the  awful  height  that  had  been  reached. 
There  was  no  more  time  to  lose.  The 
enemy,  at  the  distance  of  some  quarter  of  a 
mile,  seemed  to  be  waiting.  Had  he  no 
ticed  something  unskilful  in  the  Scorpion  s 
handling?  Full  speed  after  him,  then,  be- 


WEISNER  233 

fore  he  could  take  any  further  advantage 
of  it.  Even  a  stern  chase  ought  to  result 
in  mutual  wreck — if  only  the  novalite  held 
out. 

Purdy' s  hand  was  already  on  the  proper 
lever,  ready  to  shove  it  to  its  uttermost 
notch. 

But  what  ailed  Weisner?  He  was  ap 
proaching  slowly,  unsteadily.  A  window 
opened  in  his  car.  A  bearded  face  ap 
peared.  Purdy  slid  back  a  circular  pane 
and  caught  the  words : 

" — will  surrender.  Help  us!  For  God  s 
sake!" 

"He's  short  of  power,  too,"  breathed 
Purdy.  "  He  thinks " 

But  the  flame  from  Weisner's  funnel  be 
gan  to  pale.  His  car  lost  altitude.  Sud 
denly  the  funnel  went  black.  And  gravity, 
impatient  of  its  long  wait,  reached  out  in 
visible  arms.  There  came  a  cry  which  was 
not  of  bursting  molecules — a  cry,  weak  but 
pitiably  human.  Purdy,  using  his  funnel 


234  JUNGLE  TERROR 

as  a  search-light,  kept  track  for  a  few 
seconds  of  a  thing  of  metal  which  shot 
to  the  very  bottom  of  the  gulf  of  darkness. 
The  Scorpion  and  its  crew  held  undisputed 
sway  in  the  sky. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

A    LOST   DISCOVERY 

IF  ONLY  there  were  some  way  to  bridge 
the  miles  between  them  and  safety! 
Purdy  put  aside  the  thought,  set  the 
machinery  so  that  the  end  might  be  delayed 
as  long  as  possible,  and  went  over  to  Marie. 
In  his  heart  was  a  measure  of  contrition. 
How  his  foolish  brain  had  fought  against 
her. 

"I  was  so  afraid!"  she  whispered.  "But 
— I'm  not,  now." 

Here  was  just  a  simple  woman,  clinging 
to  him  for  strength  and  comfort.  And  he 
was  the  one  in  all  the  world  that  she  wanted 
to  cling  to.  Her  face,  her  sign  of  returning 
courage,  told  him  that.  The  thousand 
questions,  as  yet  unanswered,  seemed  of  very 

little  consequence  now. 

235 


236  JUNGLE  TERROR 

"Were  you  really  that  creature's  wife?" 
was  all  that  he  asked. 

"Only  in  name,"  she  replied,  simply. 
"We  were  married  the  day  he  left  the  cap 
ital  two  years  ago.  I  had  to — to  keep  his 
confidence." 

"That  was  too  much  for  even  a  Secret 
Service  to  ask  of  you." 

"I  do  not  belong  to  any  Secret  Service. 
I  really  didn't  have  your  password."  And 
her  eyes  took  on  a  look  of  indescribable  sad 
ness  as  she  added: 

"  I  am  not  an  American  by  birth ;  only  by 
adoption.  I  am  a  Serbian." 

"Then  you  were  working  for " 

"My  country!  I  went  back  home  at  the 
beginning  of  the  war.  You  do  not  know 
what  Bulgaria — and  another  nation  that 
I  cannot  bear  even  to  name — has  done  to 
my  people,  to  my  family,  to  my  own  brothers 
and  sisters.  Yes,  and  after  I  went  back,  to 
me.  You  will  never  know.  I  had  sworn 
to  avenge  these  wrongs.  I  was  captured. 


A  LOST  DISCOVERY  23f 

I  escaped.  Then  I  learned  of  this  Krieg, 
of  how  he  had  stolen  a  wonderful  mechanical 
secret,  and  was  developing  and  perverting  it. 
He  murdered  the  original  inventor,  an  Amer 
ican,  and  not  a  Frenchman  as  he  told  you. 
And  he  made  of  it  a  new  machine  to  kill. 
Kill!  Kill!  It  was  always  that.  The  old 
reign  of  brutality  was  to  be  renewed,  it 
seemed,  just  when  everybody  thought  it  was 
passing  away  forever.  I  was  determined 
that  it  should  not.  So  I  married  him.  I 
would  have  been  willing  at  that  time  even 

to  have " 

"  But  why  didn't  you  tell  me  ? " 

A   noiseless   laugh   parted   the   woman's 

lips,  full  of  mischief  and  real  amusement. 

"  Men  are  such  wretched  actors !     I  had  to 

prevent  a  perfect  understanding  between  us. 

He  would  have  seen  it.    Besides,  nothing  but 

your  own  heart  would  have  believed  me — 

without  that  wretched  password.    And  I  was 

afraid  if  I  let  you  care  too  much,  that  you 

might  have  to  see — what  you  couldn't  bear." 


238  JUNGLE  TERROR 

"But  after  he  was  disposed  of?  After  I 
had  said " 

"You  said  nothing,  dear.  And  I  am  a 
woman.  I  must  hear  the  words.  Why, 
you  even  woke  up  scowling  after  Krieg  shot 
you,  and  I  had  just " 

"I  thought  it  was  an  old  aunt  of  mine. 
I  was  dreaming  of  her." 

Their  laughter  rang  out,  as  if  this  was  all 
taking  place  in  some  comfortable  nook  of 
earth,  and  not  in  the  pitiless  heavens  where 
the  Scorpion  was  slowly  creeping  to  the  edge 
of  doom. 

"You  certainly  can  act,  if  I  cannot," 
Purdy  continued.  "That  is,  if  you " 

"  I  did !  I  did  almost  from  the  first.  And 
it  interfered  dreadfully  with  my  plans. 
Krieg  became  an  impossibility  after  that. 
Oh,  if  I  have  had  caprices,  you  must  forgive 


me." 


"Speaking  of  forgiveness,"  put  in  Tommy 
from  across  the  car,  "I've  been  a  miserable 
cur.  I  told  Purdy " 


A  LOST  DISCOVERY  239 

"  I  know,  Tommy.  I  heard  part  of  it— 
about  my  trying  to  interfere  with  poor  old 
Briggs.  You  only  did  your  duty.  Krieg 
to  me  then  was  just  Weisner's  enemy.  But 
how  could  you  know?" 

"I  suppose,"  said  Purdy,  "that  it  was 
Weisner  who  shot  my  llama  with  an  airgun, 
or  something." 

"Probably.  He  was  always  sneaking 
around.  It  seemed  to  delight  him  to  drive 
Krieg  frantic.  From  the  day  he  stole  the 
Jaguar " 

"The  Jaguar  ?"  cried  Purdy  and  Tommy 
together. 

"Yes,  that  was  the  name  of  the  other 
machine.  They  used  to  fly  with  it  away 
off  the  jungle  and  camouflage  it  there  under 
a  sheet  of  painted  canvas.  It  really  looked 
then  something  like  its  name,  Krieg  said, 
except  for  size.  But  Weisner  was  a  clever 
mechanic,  and  after  working  for  a  while  as 
assistant  he  got  the  whole  secret.  But  he 
wanted  to  kill  Krieg  before  attempting  any- 


24o  JUNGLE  TERROR 

thing  big.  He  used  to  shoot  real  jaguars, 
and  put  them  in  the  trees  around  the  work 
shop.  You  saw  one.  It  made  Krieg  reck 
less.  He  would  sometimes  spend  hours  in 
the  woods,  hoping  to  catch  him  at  it.  That 
was  what  Weisner  wanted.  But  somehow 
they  never  met." 

The  girl  fell  silent.  The  funnel  had  fallen 
silent,  too.  A  low  whine,  the  breath  of  their 
descent,  gradually  growing  to  a  hurricane, 
came  in  through  the  Scorpion  s  armour. 

"Good-bye,  you  two,"  said  Tommy  in  a 
cheerful  voice,  and  turned  his  face  to  the 
wall. 

"Good-bye!" 

There  seemed  nothing  left  to  say.  Marie 
kissed  Purdy  once  upon  the  lips,  and  closed 
her  eyes.  There  is  something  lonely,  after 
all,  in  death. 

Purdy  stared  off  into  space  with  level, 
unseeing  eyes. 

Suddenly  he  sprang  to  his  feet.  A  scene 
of  unutterable  beauty  lay  beneath — some- 


A  LOST  DISCOVERY  241 

thing  near  and  familiar.  They  had  moved, 
in  spite  of  their  windings,  in  one  vast  circle, 
and  were  back  again  near  to  the  starting- 
point.  Surely  that  landscape — in  places  a 
desert  but  serenely  pastoral  along  the 
streams,  with  its  cattle,  its  haciendas  and 
their  peacefully  smoking  chimneys — was 
the  country  about  Lara's  capital  city.  And 
that  line  of  rocks,  gleaming  like  teeth,  was 
the  coast. 

Purdy,  however,  gave  it  but  a  single 
glance.  He  was  working  frantically  about 
the  windlass.  The  novalite  passed  to  the 
funnel  through  a  pipe.  When  the  last  end 
of  it  left  the  windlass  there  would  remain, 
he  had  just  happened  to  think,  several  feet 
of  it  still  in  the  pipe.  If  he  had,  now,  some 
thing  by  means  of  which  he  could  move  it 
on! 

The  long,  slender,  lever-handle  with  which 
Krieg  had  once  disarmed  him!  He  caught 
it  up,  smashed  the  glass  of  the  coffin-like  box, 
tore  loose  the  end  of  the  explosive  strand 


242  JUNGLE  TERROR 

from  the  spool,  inserted  the  lever-handle  in 
the  upper  orifice  of  the  pipe,  and  urged  the 
contents  downward.  There  was  little  room 
to  work  in,  but  the  lever-handle  was  fortu 
nately  short.  If  the  rope  with  its  core  of 
wire  would  but  permit  itself  to  be  shoved ! 
So  terrific  was  its  power  that  a  few  inches 
might  be  sufficient. 

The  experiment  promised  success.  An 
explosive  burst  sounded  from  the  funnel 
below.  The  Scorpion  began  to  struggle, 
It  hesitated;  stood  still;  drifted  past  the 
rocks;  began  once  more  to  sink.  Beneath 
lay  a  lonely  beach,  a  land-locked  bay.  It 
was  not  so  very  far  to  fall.  Purdy  opened 
the  sliding  doors. 

"Jump — the  instant  before  we  strike 
the  water!"  he  shouted.  "Jump  clear. 
There  is  a  fighting  chance." 

He  seized  Marie  by  the  hand,  and  they 
took  the  chance  together. 

Some  days  later,  at  a  table  in  the  best 


A  LOST  DISCOVERY  243 

cafe  in  that  shabby  little  South  American 
city  which  must  still  be  nameless,  sat  a 
sun-browned  Yankee.  From  the  ceiling  a 
number  of  creaking,  rotary  fans,  patterned 
after  Don  Quixote's  windmills,  drove  down 
the  hot  breath  of  the  Tropic  of  Capricorn. 

"Tommy,"  he  said,  "Krieg  and  Weisner 
are — where  they  belong.  Their  machines 
are  destroyed.  Their  secret  ought  to  be 
destroyed,  too.  We  must  go  back  to  that 
machine-shop  in  the  hills  and  blow  it  up 
with  what  is  left  of  the  novalite.  There 
might  be  blueprints,  plans  of  some  sort. 
I  don't  want  a  scrap  of  paper  to  escape." 

Marie,  who  made  the  third  of  the  party, 
clapped  her  hands  softly  in  applause  of 
Purdy's  speech. 

"All  right,"  said  Tommy.  "Only  let  me 
get  a  couple  of  guides  and  go  alone.  I — 
I  need  the  trip." 

This  being  agreed  to,  Tommy  rose  and 
left  the  cafe. 

"Poor  chap!"  said  Purdy,  after  a  pause. 


244  JUNGLE  TERROR 

"But  I  suppose  we've  got  to  forget  him, 
and  be  happy." 

"We  can't  help  being  happy/'  said  Marie, 
as  a  hand  reached  hers  across  the  table. 
"And  think!  In  all  the  future  no  nation 
will  ever  enslave  another  again,  no  nation 
will  ever  become  too  strong." 

"At  least,  let  us  hope,"  assented  Purdy. 

THE    END 


THE  COUNTRY  LIFE  PRESS 
GARDEN  CITY,  N.  Y. 


A     000  038  775     3 


